A Different Me, A Different You
by LawyerGirl1
Summary: Lorelai did marry Christopher before giving birth to Rory, but their married life is more like a business partnership and Rory, growing up in the moneyed atmosphere of class and privilege, is a somewhat different Rory. Reviews are like rainbows, so R&R!
1. The Beginning Of A Beautiful Friendship

**1. The beginning of a beautiful friendship**

"So, have we discussed homecoming yet?"

"Not to my knowledge."

"I think the ritual should be put to sleep," Rory Hayden said, tossing her chestnut hair over her shoulder. "Or at least assigned a new colour scheme."

"Like your grandmother would allow you to deviate from the blue that fits your eyes oh-so-perfectly," Paris Geller teased.

"I know, right?" Rory rolled her eyes and mocked her grandmother's voice. "Oh, darling, you do look so lovely in blue. Lorelai, buy her more blue."

The girls snickered. Unlike most high schools, Chilton Academy served a perfectly edible lunch menu. Yet the two paid little attention to the salmon puffs and salad on their plates. Paris was distraught that the lunch lady has disregarded Geller's Fourth Lunchtime Commandment (Food Shall Not Touch Other Food) and Rory wanted to make sure that she fit into her dark blue dress for the upcoming school dance.

"Are you still staying with your grandparents?"

"Yeah," Rory replied. "The contractors managed to flood the entire third floor in our house, so it is completely unliveable. Of course, Mom stepped in and told them that they will be responsible for the costs incurred. I have never seen grown men with chainsaws look so nervous!"

Paris grinned.

"What are we laughing about?" Madeleine Lynn asked, sliding into her usual seat next to Rory.

"Your grades," Louise Grant shot back, sitting down across from Madeleine and Rory.

"Oh, now, be nice," Paris chastised, then frowned. "Wow, saying that felt wrong."

The girls laughed again.

"Hey, who is that?"

Paris followed Rory's gaze to a shy-looking Korean girl that just entered the lunch hall.

"Lane Hyun-kyung Kim," Madeleine said promptly. "Just transferred here from Stars Hallow High on a music scholarship."

"Nice stripper name," Louise snorted.

"Oh, great. A rube from the sticks. I do not understand why Charleston has this compulsion to allow hicks. All they do is mess up the curve and take up space. Aren't we at least pretending to some sort of academic superiority here?"

Rory just nodded and let Paris' rage wash over her like a soothing lullaby. Since the Crayon Incident at kindergarten, she had learned that it was unwise to pay too much attention to Paris's rants. Instead, Rory studied the Korean girl who had inadvertently taken a seat at the jock table. The newcomer seemed oblivious to the stares and jokes from the jocks, as she was studying a leaflet from a nearby music store.

As the bell rang, signalling the end of lunch, Rory wiped her hands on a napkin and left her largely untouched plate on the table.

"You know Charleston is going to get his polyester knickers into a twist if he sees you leaving your plate on the table, right," Paris warned.

"Whatever," Rory shrugged. "Let the maids clean up."

"You get more like your grandmother every day," Louise said, approvingly.

"Oh, now, be nice," Rory laughed.

The four linked arms and left the lunch hall.

"Excuse me," a shy voice asked. "Do you perhaps know where Miss Grey is? I have her for history now and I'm afraid I'm going to be late again. I mean, I have a floor plan of the school and everything, but some sick freak decided to print it in Pig Latin or something. So I can't make out where I am or where I need to be and it's driving me insane."

It was Lane Hyun-kyung Kim, looking a little frustrated.

Paris rolled her eyes. "I'm not going to be late for class because of some rube's inability to read a map."

Madeleine and Louise left with Paris.

"Charming girl," the girl remarked. "I'm assuming she's gunning for the position of Miss Congeniality.

Rory felt the urge to laugh. "I have Miss Grey for history now, too, so I can walk you there. My name's Rory Hayden, from the Connecticut Haydens."

"Lane Kim, from the Stars Hollow Kims."

"Stars Hollow? What's that?"

"Just a little town forty-five minutes and thirty-odd haystacks from here. Take the I1 and turn right at the big rooster statute."

"You're kidding."

"Yeah. You actually turn left."

Rory laughed as they walked together to class.

"Tell me more about this Stars Hollow …"

"Hey, Mom," Rory said as she walked to her mother's car after school. "Trying to win a Cindy Crawford lookalike competition?"

Lorelai was perched on the bonnet of her silver Merc, wearing a black Prada pantsuit with a white blouse and gorgeous pink Jimmy Choos. She passed a Starbucks cup to her daughter and struck a pose. "Better than my usual Ronald McDonald look?"

"No," Rory replied, sipping her coffee. "I miss the clown shoes and the red wig. At least you still got that clown mouth effect going."

"Shush, you," Lorelai responded, feigning a hurt look. "If you're mean to Mommy, I won't let you get out of tea with Grandma's old biddies' club."

"It's called the DAR, Mom. And I need to interview them for my article for The Franklin."

"You say potato, I say wrinkled old dragons."

"I believe that's their motto."

"You should include it in the article."

"I'm glad Paris will let me write on the DAR for The Franklin."

"Your grandmother is glad, too. How was school, kid?" Lorelai asked as they got into the car.

Rory shrugged, looking at the imposing stone-and-mortar structure in front of her. "School. Got there, learned stuff, had lunch, made Paris turned purple by answering questions on Martin Luther King before she could."

"You forgot 'made out with Tristan'."

"Tristan's still suspended for a stunt he pulled."

Lorelai tried not to frown. She couldn't understand what her beautiful, sassy daughter was doing with a jerk like Tristan DuGrey. He was tall and handsome, in a prep-school Ken doll way, but other than that … "At least you have a personal chauffeur service to come pick you up after you learned stuff and turned Paris purple," Lorelai said.

"So does most of the people in my class. Except their chauffeurs aren't their parents, but qualified drivers. I'm getting ripped off here."

"Hey," Lorelai protested, revving the Merc and driving smoothly away from Chilton Academy. "I could have been Michael Schumacher in another life."

"You could have been an innkeeper in another life, too," Rory shot back. "Doesn't mean you would have been any good at it."

"Strike Two. Another mean comment and I'm sending you home with Tweeny Halpurn."

"Bet she'll spring for a Town Car to pick me up from school."

Lorelai grinned, looking at her daughter. "Love you, kid."

"Love you, too."

xxxxxxxxx

Emily Gilmore, as impeccably dressed and coiffed as always, opened the door of the Hartford house to her daughter and granddaughter. "Hello, girls. Lorelai, that is a lovely outfit."

"Thanks, Mom," Lorelai said breezily. "You finally have something in common with my guys over at Merrill Lynch."

Emily looked puzzled.

"She means that her male colleagues also approve of that outfit," Rory translated, rolling her eyes and heading upstairs to her room.

"Remember the ladies from the DAR will be here in an hour," Emily called after her. "Wear that red dress I brought for you."

"Bring a coffee and danish to my office," Lorelai told the maid, handing over her coat and scarf. "Strong coffee. Really. I want to be able to use it as a spread on the danish."

"Aren't you having tea with me and the ladies?" Emily asked with a frown.

"No, thanks, Mom," Lorelai said. "I have to go over the quarterly reports and see what we can salvage. Hence the need for coffee and a danish."

Emily nodded, secretly rather proud of her daughter. "Remember we have guests for supper tonight, so I would appreciate it if you could change before seven."

Lorelai bit back a sharp retort and headed upstairs. After a fairy-tale wedding to Christopher at Cape Cod, a lace-and-satin affair more to Cinderella's tastes than Lorelai's, Christopher and Lorelai moved in with Richard and Emily. While the newlyweds were tasting cheese and grapes in Napa Valley on a short honeymoon, Emily had turned the third floor guest rooms into a suite for her daughter and son-in-law. Three bedrooms with en-suite bathrooms, a pastel pink nursery for Rory, a kitchen nook for late night pregnancy cravings and a lavish lounge all received a splash of Emily's elegance and style. Now that Lorelai's house was being flooded by incompetent construction workers, Lorelai and Rory had moved back into the suite. Christopher, of course, was still travelling in California on business.

Flopping down into the chair in her office, Lorelai looked around her and allowed herself a little nostalgic smile. While still pregnant with Rory, Lorelai had converted one of the bedrooms into a makeshift study and completed her GED. At this desk, researching universities online, she had felt Rory's first little kicks. In that corner, Rory had slept in her crib while Lorelai wrote her college admission essays. And a toddler with strings of brown hair and determined blue eyes steadied herself on those shelves before taking her first unsteady steps.

"Your coffee, ma'am," the maid said, bustling in with a cherry danish and a cup brimming with froth.

"Thanks," Lorelai smiled, switching on her laptop and getting to work.


	2. You've Been Gilmore'd

**2. You've been Gilmore'd**

The morning at Merrill Lynch's Hartford headquarters have been as busy as usual. Lorelai slipped her five-inch Manolos from her feet and swirled her toes in the carpet, enjoying the luxury. She loved her office and all it represented. Glamour. Prestige. Success. She glanced around her office and looked at the collection of mahogany frames on the wall. The _cum__laude_degree from Yale, where she majored in finance and business management. The MBA from Harvard Business School. The results of her Series 7, Series 63 and Series 65 exams. The article from TIME Magazine, in which she was lauded as one of the Top Forty Under Forty.

She enjoyed her time at Yale, even though the toddler she had in tow made the stereotypical student life a little difficult at times. Christopher, partying up a storm at Princeton, had offered to take care of Rory a few times and always spent his breaks from school with them. Lorelai, having experienced the drunken chaos of his dorm rooms once, refused to allow Rory to go to Princeton with her dad. Nor would she leave Rory with Emily and the maids for a whole week. So Lorelai and Rory lived in a cramped apartment just off campus during the week, commuting back to Hartford during the weekend. It was usually easy to find students willing to babysit the quiet little girl when Lorelai had to go to class or write exams. In a pinch, she could always leave her daughter in the safety and warmth of the enormous Yale library. _And__Rory__loved__that__library_, Lorelai thought, remembering the first day she took Rory to the library.

_They walked across the tree-lined foot paths to the library, Lorelai holding tightly onto three-year-old Rory's mittened hand. Students were hurrying past them, eager to get inside the warmth of the old stone buildings. Lorelai had wrapped Rory up warm in a layer of clothes, including a knitted cap with a tassel. The brightly coloured cap had been a gift from one of the caretakers of their apartment building; Rory had become close friends with the old lady and Lorelai could not refuse the knitted monstrosity. She took great care, however, that Rory only wore it in New Haven and never around Hartford, knowing that Emily would consign the cap to the trashcan as soon as she saw it._

"_Now remember," Lorelai said, leading Rory into the foyer of the library. "All the people in there have work to do, so you need to be a quiet little mouse. You have your colouring books and Colonel Clucker to keep you company and, if you behave, we can go to lunch at that place with the funny ducks. What do you say, kid?" _

"_Excuse me, miss," a frosty voice said. The middle-aged librarian, her hair combed back into a stiff bun, folded her lips into a disapproving line. "This is a library, not a crèche or a drop-off zone for lazy au pairs looking to go shopping for the day. Kindly take your charge elsewhere." _

_Lorelai felt the spirit of Emily Gilmore channel through her. But before she could speak, crushing the arrogant spinster before her, Rory spoke up. "Mommy needs to write an exam and my babysitter is sick. I can't stay alone at the 'partment, because Colonel Clucker can't phone Mommy if I get hurt or if the neighbours set the 'partment on fire. I promise I will be good if I stay here."_

_The librarian looked at Lorelai. "This child is your daughter?" _

"_Yes. And I really can't leave her alone at our apartment, but if I don't write this exam …"_

"_And you could not make suitable arrangements."_

"_No. The flu epidemic is keeping my standby A-Team in bed this week." _

"_I have my own juice and a sandwich for if I get hungry," Rory said, looking at the librarian with her big blue eyes. "You can have my Oreos if you want."_

_The librarian looked at Lorelai again. "Your daughter has wonderful manners. Go write your exam. I will make sure that she is safe here."_

"_Thank you," Lorelai breathed, her relief extinguishing her previous resentment and rage. _

_The librarian smiled suddenly. "Anything for an Oreo." _

Richard had loved that story. "Rory pulled a classic Gilmore manoeuvre," he had chuckled. "Using charm, subtle bribery and a certain bullishness in getting exactly what one desires." It was still one of his favourite Christmas anecdote, the tale of how Rory Gilmore'd the librarian.

"The representative from Styles and Associates is here," Maude, Lorelai's secretary, poked her head around the door. "I have Gloria preparing the coffee."

"Make it strong," Lorelai said with a smile. "I need some caffeine to pull off a particularly tricky Gilmore manoeuvre today."

She hadn't seen the representative from Styles and Associates since a particularly memorable meeting in New York three months ago. TIME Magazine was hosting their annual celebration of the Top Forty Under Forty and, since Christopher was chasing down some business dream in Boston, she had gone alone. And gotten re-acquainted with another one of the Top Forty Under Forty, who had since moved to Hartford to control Styles and Associates. She had a feeling he wasn't going to be happy to see her taking the meeting today.

xxxxxxxxxx

"You can't go to the Nina Simone tribute anymore," Paris told Rory.

Rory looked up from _Even__Cowgirls__Get__The__Blues_. "What?"

"You can't go to the Nina Simone tribute next weekend anymore," Paris said, agitated. "You have the interview with Max Medina going above the fold and the feature article on the DAR, so Miss 'Summer of Love' Jones decides that I need to give the other writers a chance to bloom. That's actually the phrase she used. A chance to bloom! She's obviously been watching too many Oprah reruns."

"Or horticultural programmes," Rory said, closing her book and stuffing it into her backpack. Paris's voice was echoing slightly through the Chilton Academy library, disturbing the other sophomores who had a study hall period. "Let's discuss this in the quad, shall we."

"At least I know where Crackpot Charleston got the idea that letting hicks into our school is a good idea," Paris fumed. "Did you hear Lane Kim earlier today in English? Who doesn't know when Shakespeare first published _Romeo__and__Juliet_?"

"Clearly, Charleston deserves the death penalty," Rory said, sitting down on one of the benches in the quad. "So who is going to the Nina Simone tribute, then?"

"Well, you can still go and write it up. We'll just publish it under another name," Paris shrugged.

"Paris. You may not rate Miss Jones's intelligence very highly at this moment, but I guarantee you she will notice if you make up another fake writer for the paper. Remember what happened when she told you to let the janitor be interviewed by someone else and you interviewed him anyway?"

"Please," Paris said. "If not for Trixiebell Brown, nobody would have known that Miguel was involved in human trafficking."

"Trixiebell Brown is a horrible pseudonym."

Paris reflected. "We'll pick something better for your article."

"Or I can go and write it up," an eager voice volunteered. Lane, who had just left the music room close the quad, had overheard the conversation. "I love Nina Simone's music and this tribute has all the makings of a classic. I would love to tell my grandchildren that I was at our generation's Woodstock."

Paris rolled her eyes. "I am not letting somebody who confuses Shakespeare with Doctor Seuss near my paper. Go away. Shoo."

"So maybe Stars Hollow High hasn't provided me with all this knowledge that you have that will come in great when you're playing Trivial Pursuit with your nanny on a Friday night," Lane said, "but I wouldn't have gotten into this school if I didn't have the potential of doing great here. And, while you can be as vindictive and petty as you want to be about people from small towns, think about it this way. You want to have a great review for your paper. I am here on a music scholarship. If you weren't so small-minded and pathetically type A, you would realize that I am the perfect choice for a perfect review."

"And we won't have to print a review in the name of Trixiebell Brown," Rory said, grinning to see Paris speechless. "That's what I call a win-win situation. Hey, Lane, do you mind if I tag along? I've been dying to see Lea Michele do a remake of My Baby Just Cares For Me."

"Sure," Lane said.

Paris gave Rory a furious look.

"Great," Rory smiled. "We'll talk logistics at lunch, okay?"

"Sure," Lane said. "I am late for class. See you at lunch!"

Rory put up her hand, signalling Paris to be quiet until Lane had moved out of earshot. "We can't print the review under my name or under Trixiebell Brown's name. But if I go with Lane, I'm there too and I can rewrite whatever she submits. Then we print my rewrite under her name."

Paris reflected on it, then slowly said, "There's a plan that potentially does not suck. Although I still vote for Trixiebell to come out of retirement."

"You wouldn't be you if you didn't," Rory said, getting her Tom Robbins book out of her bag and cracking it open.


	3. A Real Rice Krispie Treat

**3. A Real Rice Krispie Treat**

_A/N: Lyrics of "Touch-a, Touch-a, Touch Me" by Richard O'Brien. While it was written for the stage play of The Rocky Horror Picture Show, the version sung here is by Susan Sarandon. Thought it would be a classier choice than Lonely Island's "I Just Had Sex". Leave me a review if you disagree. Heck, just leave me a review anyway!_

"Speak now or forever hold your peace," Lorelai chirped into her BlackBerry, not stopping her frantic typing. She had The Rocky Horror Picture Show soundtrack playing in the background, finding the rock music a good morale booster.

"Hi, Mom. Just wanted to know if you want final picture approval before I sent the photographs along to the people who print milk cartons."

Lorelai glanced at the view of the sunset over Hartford from her office window. "Ah, what a sweet way of asking me if I'm bringing home the bacon soon."

"Yeah. So when are you done? If you miss dinner two nights in a row because of work, Grandmother is going to revoke all your pudding privileges."

"She did that when I spat pumpkin onto her new white rugs."

"When did you do that?"

"When I was three."

A dark-haired man in an Armani suit entered Lorelai's office and perched on the corner of her desk. His face was set in a stern expression.

_I__was__feeling__done__in,_Susan Sarandon began her solo. _Couldn__'__t__win._

Lorelai tried to still the butterflies in her stomach to no avail. Since the moment that she had met Jason Styles in the company boardroom that morning, since he realised that she had been back in Hartford and would be doing the Donner project along with him, she had been expecting a confrontation of some sorts.

_I thought there's no use getting into heavy petting. It only leads to trouble and seat-wetting._

It was, she had to admit, part of the reason why she had stayed late at the office.

"Honey," Lorelai said slowly, "I have some things to finish up."

_I'll put up no resistance. I want to stay the distance._

Rory sighed. "Be home as soon as you can, okay. They are showing a rerun of the Brady Bunch variety hour tonight."

_I've got an itch to scratch._

"Get the Red Vines ready."

_I__need__assistance._

Lorelai put the BlackBerry on her desk and leant back in her chair, knowing that the red scoop-necked Marni dress would show off her lean body and curves perfectly. Judging from the way Jason Styles' eyes dipped to her neckline, he thought so too.

_Toucha toucha touch me. I wanna be dirty. Thrill me, chill me, fulfill me._

"I thought you were still in New York," Jason said abruptly.

"I am. This is just an amazing hologram."

Jason didn't smile. "When did you get back?"

"A few weeks ago."

"BBM service down again?"

"What?"

"Lost my e-mail address?"

"No."

"Still have my cell phone number?"

"I couldn't call you, Jason."

"Emily insists on sending me an inane Christmas card every year, so you should still have my address."

"You know I'm married."

_Then, if anything grows, while you pose, I'll oil you up and rub you down._

"Yes," Jason said, his voice flat. "I also know that the night we spent together in New York was incredible."

_And that's just one small fraction of the main attraction._

"Get a hooker. They charge more, but they have pretty much the same effect." Lorelai swept her belongings into her handbag and got up to leave. Jason grabbed her wrist, his touch light yet firm, and cupped her chin in his free hand, forcing her to make eye-contact.

_You need a friendly hand and I need action._

"Not just the sex," he said, his breath a soft caress against her cheek. "Not just the mind-blowing sex, but also the mind-blowing company. I miss the snap, crackle and pop of your conversation and no hooker is going to give me that."

"Pay her more," Lorelai mumbled. "Jason …"

_Toucha toucha touch me._

"Tell me you didn't miss me," he challenged her.

"I … "

_Toucha toucha touch me. I want to be dirty._

"You did. You missed me, you missed my company and you missed my sense of humour," Jason insisted, pulling her closer and wrapping his arms around her slim waist. She placed her hands against his chest, meaning to push him away from her. But the feel of his toned skin underneath his shirt made her remember the night in New York in a way that made her heart flutter. And Jason noticed it. "And you missed my kisses on your skin, my hands on your body, my taste on your tongue. You miss the way I make you snap, crackle and pop."

_Thrill me._

"Yeah, you're a real Rice Krispie treat," Lorelai said, trying to control the rising tide of desire. "Jason …"

_Chill me._

The kiss was intense, sweet, sensual.

_Fulfill me._

"No," Lorelai said firmly, pulling away from him. "We are not having a repeat of the night in New York."

"I can be the one wearing the heels this time, if you want a little variety."

Lorelai simply shook her head and walked out of her office.

_Creature of the night._


	4. Got My Heart, Got My Soul, Got My Back

**4. Got My Heart, Got My Soul, Got My Back**

"Remember, Lane Kim is coming home after school with me today so you can't be late this afternoon. We have a lot of prepping to do before Nina Simone tonight," Rory said as Lorelai manoeuvred the Merc into her usual parking spot at Chilton Academy. "Lane's mom is apparently really religious and completely against Lane wearing anything that doesn't incorporate some spiritual slogan somewhere. I wouldn't be surprised if Lane's underwear has Bible verses instead of her name stitched onto them. So we are going to need to raid your closet, especially the circa 1980 section."

"Uh-huh," Lorelai replied.

"Mom. You're not listening to me," Rory complained.

"Yes, I am. Crazy Koreans and indie rock."

"You okay, Mom?" Rory asked, concerned. "For the past week, you've been a little weird."

"You read Ayn Rand for entertainment purposes," Lorelai grumbled. "You have no true perception of what is weird and what isn't."

"Sorry for worrying about you," Rory muttered as she got out of the car, banging the door shut and walking off.

Lorelai sighed and thumped her head against the steering wheel before driving off. _Great.__It__'__s__been__a__week__since__I__saw__Jason__and__all__I__can__think__about__is__ … __Jason._She drove through Hartford on autopilot. Her marriage to Christopher had, predictably, settled into the safe monotony of a business partnership. She enjoyed his company and she knew he would always be a close friend, but the truth was that she was no longer truly in love in him. Having Rory with her at Yale matured him, while Christopher saw his five-year stint at Princeton as an extension of his teenage years. While Lorelai scheduled her student years around the demands of her toddler, including a bout of chickenpox that collided with her Series 7 exams, Christopher drank and pranked his way through Princeton. Of course, he loved Rory. But as a playmate, someone he could tell juvenile jokes to and someone that would always clap her hands in glee at his antics.

And, while his sense of humour and stylish good looks appealed to teenage Lorelai, adult Lorelai needed something more. Lorelai needed, in fact, to fall in love again. And who better than a mature, grown man with a sense of humour like dry white wine, a man who looks better out of his clothes than in them, a man who knew exactly how to kiss her and hold her and …

"But I am married," Lorelai told herself firmly. _No__pining__after__Jason__Styles__with__puppy__eyes.__No__thinking__wistfully__about__what__could__have__been.__No__fantasising__about__his__kisses.__And__from__now__on,__Nick__Donahue__from__Accounting__had__better__take__all__the__Donner__project__meetings__with__me__and__Jason.__Otherwise,__a__repeat__of__that__night__in__New__York__might__just__happen__all__over__the__Merill__Lynch__boardroom__table.__And__that__will__be__messy__in__more__ways__than__one._

xxxxxxxxxx

"Is that your mother?" Lane asked. Rory, used to people's admiration for Lorelai's beauty and youth, simply nodded. "You're lucky," Lane said frankly as the girls walked out of Chilton Academy and towards Lorelai's silver Merc.

"Why?"

"Look around you, Rory. Your mother is the only parent coming to pick up her kid from school. It can't be easy for her to arrange her schedule so that she can drive all the way from her office, take you home and then go back to work," Lane said.

Rory nodded, a sudden shameful sense of guilt creeping up on her. Lane was right. _I__should__cut__Mom__some__slack_, she thought. _She__does__so__much__for__me__and__all__I__do__is__behave__like__a__spoilt__brat.__It__can__'__t__be__easy__for__her,__juggling__her__job__and__living__with__Gran__again.__And__Dad__is__always__gone._

Lorelai was surprised when Rory flung both arms around her and hugged her tight. "I'm sorry about this morning," her daughter mumbled in her neck.

"All forgiven and forgotten," Lorelai replied with a smile, the first genuine smile in a week. "Here's your coffee. Hi, I assume you're Lane. I'm Lorelai, Rory's mother."

"Nice to meet you, Missus Hayden," Lane said politely, shaking Lorelai's hand.

"See if you can learn some manners from Lane, Rory," Lorelai teased.

"Oh, I charge for those," Lane quipped.

"I'll pay you in eternal friendship," Rory offered.

"And gratitude," Lorelai added.

Lane tilted her head to the side and pretended to consider. Before she could reply, Paris stormed up to the car and dragged Rory off to the side. Lorelai and Lane got into the Merc and Lorelai watched the exchange with some concern. _That__'__s__the__face__Christopher__has__when__he__'__s__making__a__dodgy__deal_, she thought.

xxxxxxxxxx

"May I reiterate how lucky you are?" Lane gasped when she saw the size of Rory's closet. "I've only ever seen some of these labels in _The__Devil__Wears__Prada!_"

Rory shrugged nonchalantly and herded Lane to the selection of jeans and suitable shoes. "Let me grab some T-shirts from my mom. She's really into the eighties music. We might put together an entirely passable vintage look for you."

Lorelai, who had taken the afternoon off, saw Rory walk past her office. "You want to come in here a minute, kid?" she called. Rory stuck her head inside the door. "Hey, what's up?"

"What was with the conversation you had with Paris?" Lorelai asked directly. "She seemed a little more off-her-meds than usual."

Rory looked over her shoulder, then walked inside the office and closed the door carefully. "Just a little subterfuge," she said. "I'm going with Lane to the concert tonight to make sure that I can fix her crappy review with first-hand experience. She thinks she's reviewing the concert solo."

Lorelai frowned. "How do you know her review is going to be crappy?"

"She's great in music and all, but a great musician does not a great writer make," Rory said. "We'll just print my review under her name. I don't think Lane will mind. I think she's actually just doing the review to annoy Paris, which is always good fun in my book."

Lorelai bit her lip. "It just seems … well, mean. Lane seems passionate about her music and I don't think she's got the thick skin you think she does. Remember, she's at Chilton on a scholarship. It's always difficult to fit in with a crowd that's completely different from you and setting her up to fail is just going to make it so much more difficult for her to fit in."

Rory looked worried. "Yeah, but I don't see what else I can do."

"Tell Lane that you and Paris are concerned about her lack of experience writing reviews and that you'll help her with this one," Lorelai suggested. "If you do it the right way, you could get rid of Louise permanently. God alone knows why Paris got someone who only has three CD's to do the music reviews in the first place."

"Louise can be funny."

"Louise's reviews are the worst part of The Franklin and you know it."

"Yeah," Rory conceded. "It would be great to have Lane do reviews and you're right, it's got be difficult to fit in at a school where you know no-one and everybody knows everyone else. Thanks, Mom."

"You can pay me in eternal friendship," Lorelai smiled.

"And gratitude," Rory added.


	5. Still Got The Way You Look Tonight

**5. Still Got The Way You Look Tonight**

_A/N: Thank you for all the feedback! I appreciate all your suggestions and comments – please, keep them coming and there will be cookies for everyone! Luke, Sookie, Miss Patty, Jackson, Kirk and all other quirky Stars Hollow denizens will definitely put in an appearance at some stage. At the moment, I'm having a lot of fun writing the relationship between Lorelai and Jason. _

"_Raise Your Glass" written by Pink, Max Martin and Shellback and performed by Pink. "Hold On" written and performed by Tom Waits. _

"Good morning, girls," Emily chirped the following morning as the Lorelais and Lane walked into the dining room for breakfast. "How was the concert last night?"

Rory and Lane launched into an enthuasiastic review of the Nina Simone tribute while Lorelai poured herself some coffee and walked out onto the patio. Her dreams last night had featured a dark-haired man in an Armani suit prominently, rather too prominently for her liking. _I__wonder__if__he__'__s__ … _

"Lorelai, only refugees eat outside. Either apply for asylum or come back inside," Emily called, a slight lilt of irritation in her voice. "Have you decided on an outfit for tonight?"

"It's between the blue Ossie Clark and the black Oscar de la Rente," Rory interjected smoothly, seeing Lorelai's puzzled look. "Personally, I think the Ossie Clark is best suited for the occasion."

Emily nodded. "And you, Rory?"

Lorelai nudged Lane as Rory listed her options. "Hey, do you have any idea what Anna Wintour and Diana Vreeland are talking about?"

"No," Lane whispered back. "I'm not even sure if they're talking about clothes or people."

Lorelai waited until she was driving the girls to school before asking Rory.

"Gran is hosting a fundraiser for the World Wildlife Fund," Rory explained patiently. "She saw a documentary on rhino poaching in South Africa three weeks ago and she's been wild to make a proper contribution."

"And I knew about this?" Lorelai asked.

"Yeah. You are coming solo and I am bringing Tristan."

"Great. Another party Han-style," Lorelai grumbled. "You were a lot more fun while you still pretended to be my Wooky at these things."

"And you were a lot less embarassing when you weren't making Star Wars references," Rory shot back. "You know Dad wouldn't mind if you brought a friend with you."

"True," Lorelai said. "Hey, Lane, do you want to be my plus-one tonight?"

"No, thanks," Lane replied. "I'm more of a Princess Leia than a Wooky."

"Not you, too," Rory groaned in mock exasperation. "Thanks for the lift, Mom. Don't pick me up this afternoon, because Lane and I will be writing _our_review after school."

"Okay," Lorelai said, noticing Rory's emphasis and smiling. "It was nice to meet you, Lane. You're welcome back at the Hartford House of Horrors anytime."

"I had fun. Hope you have a good day at work, ma'am."

"Rub some of those manners off on my kid, please!" Lorelai implored. Rory stuck out her tongue at Lorelai as the girls walked into the school.

xxxxxxxxxx

"Wow!" Rory exclaimed as she stuck her head around Lorelai's bedroom door. "You look gorgeous, Mom. I like your hair piled up like that."

Lorelai smiled as she tied a thin silver necklace around her throat. The cerulean blue Ossie Clark gown with its delicately embroidered bodice and silk skirt flaring out around her hips always made her feel special, sexy, sensual. _Who__says__you__need__a__man__to__feel__happy_? She glanced at her daughter, who was wearing a cocktail dress the colour of ripe pomegranates.

"You snaked Mommy's Alexander McQueen, you demon child!"

"And, look," Rory said, extending her foot to show her mother the gold gladiator sandals she was wearing, "I got the Louboutins to match!"

"Well, at least you're accessorized properly," Lorelai grinned. "You look beautiful, babe. You're going to knock Tristan off his feet."

"I hope not," Rory giggled, "he's a bad enough dancer as it is."

They linked arms as they walked downstairs. Music drifted in from the string quartet on the patio as black-clad waiters served bite-sized canapés and champagne flutes. Emily met them at the bottom of the stairs, beaming with approval.

"Well, you do look lovely. Rory," she said, with a twinkle in her eye, "I thought I saw Tristan heading towards the library earlier. Come, Lorelai, let's get you a drink and some canapés."

"Strange," Lorelai mused as Emily handed her a martini glass and a plate.

"What?" Emily frowned.

"Well, you have your social engagements and I have my hectic work schedule. I just can't remember the last time we had dinner together on a Friday night," Lorelai pointed out, then looked at her mother. "This is nice."

"I could pretend to be a PowerPoint presentation, if you'd like," Emily said with a smile. "Now, let me go to my hostess duties. There should be plenty of your colleagues here tonight. Go and mingle."

As Emily left to greet her guests, Lorelai began drifting between clusters of investment bankers and actuaries, stockbrokers and corporate lawyers, feigning interest in discussions on the global recession, proposed amendments to banking laws, the latest version of the Cadbury code. For a fleeting moment, she toyed with the idea of escaping upstairs to watch Billy Jack. Instead, she made her way to a starlit corner of the patio and sank down onto one of the garden benches. As it was close to the kitchen entrance used by the caterers, Lorelai assumed she would be safe from polite party conversation for a while. She watched the dancers in the dining room without seeing them.

_Remember how you used to peek through those banisters when you were a kid, wondering what it would feel like to be downstairs with all the grownups in their pretty clothes? And now that you are here, all you want to do is go back upstairs … _

xxxxxxxxxx

"Hey," Madeleine grabbed Rory and air-kissed the vicinity of her cheeks, "I need to be going home."

"And since her parents are out of town for the weekend," Duncan grinned, "I have to do a thorough perimeter check of her house."

"I thought we were going to go make out?" Madeleine frowned.

Louise shot Madeleine a bemused look. "Never get fat and lose your looks, Madeleine," she said, almost good-naturedly. "I need to go now, too. Paris was my ride and since it's 10.45 now …"

"Go before her head explodes," Rory smiled. She watched her friends walk away as Tristan sneaked his arms around her waist and kissed her cheek. "Let's go listen to music in the pool house," he suggested with a devious grin.

"Pool house," Rory repeated. "Sounds good."

xxxxxxxxxx

Jason Stiles had escaped to the darker corners of the garden to make an undisturbed call to Johannesburg. As he slipped out of the kitchen door, he noticed the sparkle of Lorelai's dress in the starlight. Lorelai's eye caught his movement and she looked straight at him. The moment between them snapped, crackled and popped with memories, hopes, unfulfilled fantasies …

_Right, right, turn off the lights, we're going to lose our minds tonight. What's the dealio?_

"I'm assuming that's from the Non-Emily Approved stack of CD's," Jason said as loud rock music began playing from the pool house. He walked over to Lorelai's bench slowly. "I'm assuming Rory and her friends moved their part of the party to the pool house," Lorelai said with a wry smile. "I finally understand why my mother looked like she was having a seizure when I made her listen to Little Red Corvette."

_So raise your glass if you wrong in all the right ways, all my underdogs. We will never be, never be, anything but loud and nitty, gritty, dirty little freaks._

"You look beautiful tonight."

"It is a good dress."

"It is a good you," Jason said, his voice husky.

"You look very Great Gatsby yourself," Lorelai said, taking in Jason's black Brioni suit and red buttonhole, trying to downplay his compliment. She tipped up her head to look at him and Jason had to restrain himself from leaning over to kiss her neck. Lorelai noticed the look in his eyes and bit her lip. "Jason …"

"Pursuading people to do something they don't really want to has always been a speciality of mine, yet I suck at the big romantic speech part. I want to be with you, Lorelai. I've been staring at a keycard from the Plaza Hotel for the past three months, unable to think about anybody but you. This, by the way, has created some interesting visuals during the more mundane business meetings."

"Likewise," Lorelai muttered before she could censor herself. Jason shot her a curious look.

"That is a R-rated conversation for another time," he said. "No matter how many Nick Donahues you drag into our meetings, it's still going to be the highlight of my day to see you."

"So hide in the bushes with a pair of binoculars."

"Law enforcement agencies tend to discourage that approach."

_They hung a sign up in our town: If You Live It Up, You Won't Live It Down._

The music drifting from the pool house had changed into a slow, smoky guitar riff that suited the mood perfectly.

_The moon was gold, her hair like wind … _

"Dance with me," Jason said softly, pulling Lorelai to her feet and close to his body.

_Take my hand, I'm standing right here. You've got to hold on._

"I'm married," Lorelai whispered into his shoulder.

_Everyone's looking for someone to blame. But you share my bed, you share my name._

Jason caressed her temple with his lips and she closed her eyes longingly at his touch.

_Take my hand, I'm standing right here. You've got to just hold on. _

"Marriage is a choice, not a life sentence," he quietly replied. "And it's your choice."

_When there's nothing left to keep you here, when you're falling behind in this big blue world, you got to hold on, hold on. Babe, you've got to hold on._

"I have Rory to consider."

"And I am in no hurry for you to make up your mind."

_Take my hand, I'm standing right here, and just hold on._


	6. Lies, Secret and The Other Foundations

**6. – Lies, Secrets And The Other Foundations Of A Happy Relationship**

"You enjoy the soiree last night?" Rory asked as she flopped down on Paris' bed, searching through her collection of CDs. "You looked like you were getting a tension headache again."

Paris shrugged. "No surprises there. I'm hardly a canapés-and-champagne kind of girl."

"Yeah, I've always thought of you as a Twinkies-and-tequila tramp," Rory teased.

Paris rolled her eyes.

"Hotdogs and hooch."

"Shut up."

"Beer and beef jerky."

"Gilmore, I'm going to throw something at you."

"Kool Aid and crisps."

Rory squealed as Paris flung a shoe at her and rolled off the bed. "Luckily your aim sucks, Geller," she said, resurfacing and popping a Within Temptation CD into Paris' CD player.

"Can we get to work now?" Paris tossed a manila folder with the latest contributions for The Franklin onto the bed. "What do you think of Duncan's cartoon?"

Rory pulled out the colourful cartoon strip and studied it thoughtfully. "I like it," she said. "Very Death Note meets Cyanide and Happiness."

"Let's hope Charleston doesn't recognise those references."

"_I hope you and your latest conquest are very happy!" _

"_At least there's something other than prescription pills and bourbon that can make me happy, you neurotic old nag!"_

"_Until she finds out what you keep in the back of your closet!"_

Paris fiddled with the volume dial on the CD player and tried to mute the anger vibrating through her house. Rory, who had become used to the increasingly acrimonious fights between Paris' parents, tactfully said nothing as the row continued in the next bedroom. After giving Paris a sidelong glance, though, she silently folded her arm around her best friend's shoulders and gave her a hug.

_I hope Mom and Dad never fight like this._

xxxxxxxxxx

"Go away and die," Lorelai grumbled, pulling the pillow over her head, as an overly enthuasiastic hand shook her awake.

"Ah, now, is that any way to talk to your husband?" Christopher asked as he jumped onto the bed, tucking Lorelai into his arms and kissing her neck. Lorelai dropped the pillow on the floor and blinked at him. In his Levis and black leather jacket, with his good-natured grin and fashionably tousled hair, he looked like he just walked off a movie set. _He__always__looks__like__he__'__s__just__walked__off__a__movie__set._"Christopher?" she asked sleepily.

"You remembered my name!" Christopher exclaimed with exaggerated surprise. "I'm touched."

"I thought you were only coming back tomorrow," Lorelai yawned and sat up against the headboard.

"Couldn't stay away from my girls for another day," Christopher grinned and gestured at the baggy Metallica T-shirt Lorelai was wearing. "Musically illiterate as they are."

Lorelai narrowed her eyes and swatted him with a pillow. "Says the fan of The Offspring."

"Speaking of, is the fruit of our loins still in bed?"

Lorelai shook her head and yawned again. "I wasn't awake enough to fully absorb the details when she bounced in here earlier, but she's either at Paris' house or dropping acid at an Infected Mushroom concert."

"Good," Christopher said, pinning Lorelai underneath him and nuzzling her neck. "There's something I've been dreaming about doing these past few weeks."

_Their bodies swayed to the music from the pool house. Tom Waits. Coldplay. U2. How perfect the moment was. He would remember this night, the smell of her vanilla and raspberry perfume, the feel of her body slotted into his, the slow and synchronised movements they made in the starlight. Eventually, when he knew he had to let her go or lose his self-control, he stepped back from her, raising her hand to his lips in a motion more erotic than an actual kiss. _

"_Thank you for the dance," he said, the look in his eyes belying his formal tone. "And the company."_

"_I feel very comfortable with you," she suddenly confided, twining her fingers through his, unwilling to let him walk away. _

"_Everybody needs somebody to talk to," he replied, squeezing her hand. "I look forward to seeing you again, Lorelai."_

"_I want to ask you to stay," she confessed softly._

"_I will accept that offer," he answered, "when you make it with no regrets."_

Lorelai stiffened in Christopher's embrace. "Chris, we need to talk."

"Make it dirty and I'll listen."

"Chris …"

"Hey, Mom, are you up yet?" Rory asked as she stuck her head into the bedroom and froze at the unusual sight of her parents together in bed. "Dad! I didn't expect you home so soon!"

"Likewise," Christopher whispered to Lorelai, grimacing with disappointment. He rolled off the bed and went to hug Rory. "Hey, kiddo. You and Paris finished with your stuff for The Franklin?"

"Nope. It's just a bit too noisy at Paris' house to work," Rory said diplomatically. Lorelai had heard enough society gossip to understand what Rory was not saying. "You two can use my study if you want to," she suggested. "I got the new In Design a few weeks ago."

"Thanks, Mom."

"And get the stuff done quickly. I want to take my girls out for supper tonight," Christopher said, looking from his daughter to his wife. "Peter Luger just opened a branch in Hartford and it's about time the Hayden family had some family time."

"As long as that doesn't include Straub and Francine," Rory countered.

Christopher shuddered. "I won't make you if you won't make me."

"Hey, Gilmore! You want to help me pick photo's for the feature article or do you want to be fired?" an irritated voice yelled from Lorelai's study. Rory rolled her eyes, gave Christopher a fierce hug and darted out the door.

"Remind me why Rory is friends with her again?" Christopher said as he sat down on the bed next to Lorelai.

"Because everybody can use somebody to talk to, I suppose."

xxxxxxxxxx

"Hey, Dad? We need to talk."

"Why? Are you breaking up with me?" Christopher joked. He sipped his whisky as he turned to look at his daughter, perched on the couch in their lounge. _She__looks__so__much__like__Lorelai__in__that__green__dress._

"No, but Mom might."

Christopher spluttered. "What are you talking about, kiddo?" he exclaimed, sitting down on the coffee table and staring at Rory incredulously. "Did you not just spend a very happy supper with your parents? Did you not avert your eyes with evident disdain at the many displays of parental affection?"

"Despite your many displays of parental affection, Mom has already gone to bed. What does that tell you?"

"That your mother works hard during the week and has strenous social obligations over the weekend, so she needs to catch up on her sleep when she can." Christopher drained his glass and took Rory's hand in his. "What's really bothering you, kiddo?"

Rory pulled her knees to her chest. "I don't want you guys to end up like Paris' parents," she confessed. "They can't even stand being in the same room with each other and I would hate for that to happen with you and Mom."

"That's not going to happen with your folks," Christopher assured her.

"Dad, I'll bet you your favourite Harley that Mister and Missus Geller thought the same when they got married," Rory pointed out. "Mom works so hard and you're gone so much. I'm worried you drift apart from each other."

"Look," Christopher said, as serious as his daughter has ever heard him, "we won't drift. We won't fight. We won't get a divorce. We went to different universities and we didn't drift or fight or divorce when we lived in different states."

"But didn't you just get married because Mom was pregnant?"

Lorelai, who had gotten up for a glass of water, silently watched her daughter and her husband talking from the dark bedroom.

"_Why did you?" _

_She lifted her head from his shoulder, studying his handsome face for a clue to his question. "Why did I what?"_

"_Marry Christopher."_

"_Fear," she said with raw honesty. He tucked a loose curl behind her ear, stroking her cheek as he did so. "I wouldn't have thought you could be afraid of anything."_

"_When you're sixteen and pregnant and know that your parents will disown you for not marrying the boy who knocked you up, you're afraid of everything."_

"We didn't marry because your mother was pregnant, Rory."

"_Didn't you think you were limiting yourself?"_

_She shook her head. "I just thought that I needed to provide for my child. And that Chris, for all his faults, is not a malicious man."_

"If you didn't make your unexpected arrival, we would have gotten married anyway. I planned on proposing during our senior year so that we could get married just after graduation and spend the summer on honeymoon."

"_And what type of life would I have provided for my daughter if I had to leave my parents' house? What type of job can someone get without any qualifications, any experience, any skills?"_

"_I'm not critising you, my dearest. I just want to know you, to understand you better," he said, kissing her forehead in a conciliatory gesture. _

"_Say that again," she whispered, burrowing closer to him. _

"I never told your mother this, but I knew I wanted to marry her when I first met her."

"_Say what again?"_

"And I promise you that neither one of us regretted it."

"_Say that I am your dearest."_

"_You know you are. Stop fishing for compliments."_

_They both smiled, the smile of co-conspirators, of lovers, of long lost friends, as they continued to dance in the dark._

"Not for a minute."

xxxxxxxxxx

"I often think Mark Twain would have revised his opinion of golf if he had had the pleasure of playing here," Richard Gilmore said contentedly, studying the country club golf course. It was a beautiful Sunday morning; the kind of day Richard firmly believed to be created for the express purpose of playing golf. "And P.G. Wodehouse would have gathered some wonderful material."

"Except nobody would believe that it could possibly be based on actual events," Christopher grinned.

Richard inclined his head in agreement as he adjusted his gloves and then noticed a familiar figure strolling out of the clubhouse. "Jason!"

"Morning, Richard. Christopher."

"I'm surprised to see that the groundskeeper hasn't banned you from the premises yet," Christopher said with an amicable smile as he shook Jason's hand.

"I provide him with a novel challenge," Jason replied urbanely. "Without me, there would just be an endless expanse of smooth green grass and sand bunkers. No divots, no lost balls, no occasional pigeon dropping from the sky. Where is the fun in that?"

"Well, do you have time to play a few holes with Christopher and myself? Maybe discuss some of the finer points of the Richemond deal?" Richard asked. Jason, realising that the question masked a demand to which there could only be one answer, hesitated. He didn't relish the idea of playing golf with Lorelai's husband and yet this would be business. Nothing personal. He hoped.

"What if I solemnly swear to say nothing negative about your strokes?" Christopher offered, his eyes crinkled in a teasing smile.

_Then__you__'__ll__finally__have__something__in__common__with__your__wife._"Then you might have to play a few very quiet holes," Jason shot back. _So__much__for__keeping__it__business-like,__Stiles._

"Excellent," Richard said, calling for the necessary caddies and golf carts. "Now, Jason. How is my daughter holding up her side of the Donner project?"

"Knowing Lore, with consummate style and skill," Christopher interjected.

"Lorelai is great at what she does," Jason stated, trying to suppress the flare of protectiveness in his chest. _What__do__you__know__or__care__about__your__wife__'__s__business__successes__anyway?_

"She always is." Christopher winked suggestively.

"Well, she is a Gilmore," Richard said, teeing off with a wonderfully even stroke. "Style, skill and greatness comes with the pedigree."

Jason turned the conversation to the Richemond deal and restrained himself from knocking Christopher over the head with a golf club. Lorelai was right – Christopher was not malicious and Jason had to admit, however begrudgingly, that he was surprisingly likeable. Smooth. Presentable. Funny in a Jeff Dunham way.

_I__can__see__what__she__sees__in__you_, he mused as he lined up his next shot. _I__know__I__need__to__let__her__make__up__her__own__mind._

"Good shot," Christopher said, clapping Jason on the back in a fraternal way. "Some of Lorelai's greatness must be rubbing off on you."

_But nothing says I can't try to tip the scales._


	7. Faster Than You Can Say Sabotage

**7 – Faster Than You Can Say Sabotage**

_A/N: "Fix you" written and performed by Coldplay. _

"Yay! You're back!" Rory flung her arms around Tristan's neck and covered her boyfriend in lipgloss kisses, blind to the stares and the jokes from her Chilton Academy schoolmates. "I missed you."

"And I missed your very sexy school uniform, Mary. The sight of you has made my Monday morning infinitely better." Tristan brushed Rory's hair away from her face and kissed her passionately. "Hi, Paris."

Paris grunted something before storming off. "See you at The Franklin this afternoon, Rory," she snapped over her shoulder, knowing that Tristan would probably convince Rory to skip her morning classes. Again.

"Paris needs a new life coach," Tristan snorted, grabbing Rory's hand and leading her away from Chilton Academy to his soft-top BMW.

"Be nice," Rory chided him as she got into the car, thinking of the tense animosity that had poisoned the atmosphere at Paris' house. "You know her parents aren't that great."

"Hey, nobody's parents are that great," Tristan pointed out as he closed her car door and got in the driver's seat. "So, where do you want to go today?"

"Class, actually," Rory said with a regretful smile, pointing at Chilton "Miss Cummings said she's going to go over the math mid-term today."

"Aw, come now, Mary," Tristan said, giving her his best puppy eyes. "You know it's our tradition. The first day I'm back at school after suspension, you and I blow this popsicle stand and go do something fun."

Rory hesitated. "Tristan …"

"My parents are in Manhattan in some desparate attempt to get back the love in their lives," Tristan said, stroking her knee. "I thought we could go to my house, listen to some music, talk. Not talk."

Rory reletend. "As long as I'm back at three for that Franklin meeting."

"If you're not too sexy, I'm sure that can be arranged," Tristan said, gunning the engine and giving Rory his patented bad-boy look. Rory laughed and swatted his arm. "I mean it, Mary. No trying to seduce me with your feminine wiles."

"Then I'll just have to control myself," Rory said with mock seriousness. "Otherwise I can forget about anything other than filthy looks from Paris."

"Filthy is good," Tristan smirked, sneaking his hand up Rory's skirt as they drove away from school. "Filthy is very good."

xxxxxxxxxx

"Morning, Herman."

"Morning, ma'am. You are looking beautiful today."

"I bet you say that to all the ladies," Lorelai admonished the security guard with a smile as she walked inside the Merrill Lynch office block. She caught her reflection in the glass elevator and had to agree with what Herman said. The kingfisher blue jersey dress with the red-soled Louboutins struck the perfect chord between business and pleasure. Yet she felt tired, flat, dull. _I_ w_ould__'__ve __looked __forward __to __this __meeting __with __Stiles __and __Associates __if __not __for __that __conversation __Rory __and __Christopher __had __on __Saturday __night. __I__'__m __going __to __have __to __tell __Jason __that __it __will __be __strictly __business __from __now __on, __no __more __pleasure. __I __can__'__t __let __Rory __down._She felt a tug of longing in her stomach as she walked into her office. _Oh, __I__'__m __going __to __miss __him._

"Morning, Maude."

"Morning," Lorelai's secretary said as she handed her boss a Starbucks latte and followed her into the office, listing a litany of messages. Lorelai held up a hand when she spotted the silver box, wrapped with a blue Hermès scarf, on her desk. "Maude, who is my secret admirer?"

Maude giggled. "I don't know. It was here when I came in. It's probably from your darling husband, you lucky girl. He's got such good taste. Look how perfectly that scarf matches your eyes. Oops, phone."

Lorelai smiled as Maude rushed to answer the phone and studied the silver box sitting on her desk. Her darling husband, who needed the prodding of his SmartPhone to remember anniversaries and birthdays, was not the type to send impromptu gifts. _Nor __would __he __tie __a __silk __Hermès __scarf __in __a __bow,_ she thought with a sudden feeling of foreboding. She unwrapped the box and gasped. Inside, nestling in a bed of red rosebuds and Styrofoam peanuts, was a glass coffee mug bearing all the touches of a Murano master. It was pink and delicate and had red rose petals pressed between the translucent glass layers. It was beautiful and unique and she knew only one man who would send her such a gift.

The handwritten card tucked inside the mug confirmed her suspicions.

_I know you're going to need your coffee to keep up with me and Nick today._

_Jason_

_P.S. I won't be able to tell you while Nick is in the meeting, but you look unbelievably gorgeous today. _

xxxxxxxxxx

Rory daydreamed through most of the meeting at three. Tristan, true to his word, had brought her back to school and she slipped into the boardroom just before Paris banged her gavel on the table. Her body was still tingling with Tristan's touch. _Worth __failing __a __math __mid-term __for_, she thought and shivered with delight.

"No matter how frivolous the topic may seem," Paris was saying as she paced around the room, "proper research is a prerequisite for any story published in The Franklin. We have a great example of that in Lane's review of the recent Nina Simone tribute concert."

Paris came to a halt near Lane's chair. Rory felt the tension clenching in her shoulder blades. She had followed Lorelai's advice and discovered that Lane brought a witty touch to writing, along with a nearly encyclopeadic knowledge of music. _Trust __Paris __to __love __the __review __and __hate __the __reviewer._

"While it ostensibly covers a group of singers coming together to honour the music and memory of a musical legend, it also touches on the role that music can play in the civil rights movement. Good job, Lane. I wanted to arrange a picket for equal rights after reading your review."

_Wow_, Rory thought. _You __could __hardly __see __her __teeth __grind __when __she __said __that. __And __no __noticeable __sarcasm. __She __might __even __be __sincere._

"Thanks, but Rory really helped me a lot," Lane deflected Paris' praise. "If it was left up to me, I probably would've gotten carried away by Lea Michele bringing out Cory Monteith on a surprise duet version of 'I Put A Spell On You'."

"Miss Geller, I strongly advise that you use Miss Kim and Miss Gilmore as a combination for any further reviews you have planned," Miss Jones recommended.

Paris nodded. "I intend on using the two as a pair of reviewers," she said. "Once Lane is more used to the art of review, we could even expand into a point-counterpoint type of format for the more spectacular concerts."

"You would give up half a page or more for reviews?" Miss Jones asked in disbelief, wondering if Paris was setting her up for a practical joke. Paris had fought nail and tooth against what she termed "placing fluff and filler prominently in The Franklin. I mean, if people want to read a feel-good, soft-core guide to what's hipping and hopping disguised as a newsworthy publication, they might as well pick up a copy of TIME Magazine". The debate had been furious and, to this date, nobody knew exactly how Headmaster Charleston made Paris cave. Louise's guess, that he would refuse to write a letter of recommendation to any university, was still the favourite.

"It seems to be a popular section with the student body," Paris said, spinning a pencil between her fingers. "And pandering to the population and the Philistines is part of the package of being editor."

"I wouldn't have put it quite like that," Miss Jones said dryly, "although I appreciate you coming to a different insight on the necessity of reviews. That wraps it up for today, people. Meeting adjourned."

Rory made her way to Paris. "How does it feel to take the high road?" she asked, wondering what had led Paris to her different insight on reviews.

Paris smiled. "Surprisingly good. I should've tried this being-nice-to-people-thing sooner."

"Why? What's in it for you?" Rory teased.

Paris glanced around her, but the room was already empty. Lane had already sprinted off to make sure that she didn't miss her bus to Stars Hollow and the other students had homework to do, gossip to spread, Town Cars to catch. "Well," Paris confided, "I want to run for student body president next semester. And one catches more flies with honey than with vinegar."

"Well, both politics and flysports can be filthy," Rory said. "You let me know how I can help you with your political aspirations, Hillary."

"I will," Paris smiled. "And I'll even refrain from referring to you as Bill."

xxxxxxxxxx

On Tuesday, a new silver box with a red scarf tied into a bow was waiting on her desk. Inside was a charm bracelet from Tiffany's. Exquisite minituare replicas of famous landmarks dangled from the silver chain, shining a promise of idyllic travels in a multitude of hues. The Taj Mahal. The Sphinx. The Eiffel Tower. Stonehenge.

_Business can have a little pleasure, too._

_The Donner project is going to be quite a journey. Hope you enjoy the ride. _

_Jason._

_P.S. You did look unbelievably gorgeous yesterday._

xxxxxxxxxx

"Can you believe that Paris wants me to run with her as vice-president?" Rory asked Tristan as they walked down the hallway to Wednesday morning Spanish.

Tristan snorted with disdain. "I can't believe you're considering it."

Rory shot him a hurt look. "Come on, Tristan. It will look great on my college applications. You know it's this kind of activity that the Ivy League loves and that'll set me apart from all the other applicants with the same perfect GPA and mundane community service interests."

Tristan shrugged. "And you know that as soon as the admissions office sees your Hayden surname and Gilmore pedigree, you'll be let into any university you want. Why even work at your perfect GPA and mundane community service interests?"

"I can't believe you're being such a jerk about this," Rory said, putting her books down on her desk and looking at Tristan in unhappy disbelief.

"And I can't believe that you're so naïve," Tristan replied, folding his arms around her waist and pacifying her with a quick kiss. "You should know that name recognition plays an equally important role in getting you admitted to college. And you honestly think that Yale is going to turn down its sixth generation of Gilmores or Princeton its seventh generation of Haydens just because you're not the school vice-president?"

Rory pulled away from Tristan and sat down in her desk, ignoring both her boyfriend and the knot in the pit of her stomach that whispered that he was right. It didn't matter how great her grades or well-rounded her extracurricular activities were. She was going to go places because her grandfather was well-known in the insurance world, because her grandmother arranged fundraisers for the symphony and the horticultural society.

"Fine," she said, abruptly, getting up from her chair and sweeping her books into her bag. "Let's go to Manhattan for the day."

Tristan's eyes widened. "You mean it?"

"Hurry up or I'm going without you."

xxxxxxxxxx

On Wednesday, Lorelai toyed with the silver box for an enjoyable moment, wondering what Jason had sent her today. She untied the orange Hermès scarf and was surprised to see a pile of black cloth inside the box. When she saw The Bangles logo emblazoned on the front, she reached for the phone.

_Because I spilt ketchup on your Bangles T-shirt at camp and didn't apologise._

_I am sorry._

_Jason._

Jason's direct office line just rang and went to voicemail. Lorelai considered phoning his cellphone and then reconsidered. _No. __I__'__ll __see __him __at t__he __meeting __later __today. __I __can __accept __his __apology __then._She put the box, scarf and T-shirt in the bottom drawer of her desk next to the coffee mug and the Tiffany bracelet. When Nick Donahue had left the boardroom to take a personal call during their Monday meeting, she seized the opportunity to tell Jason that she had to keep their relationship professional.

_He nodded. "I know. You have y our daughter to consider."_

_She was surprised at his insight. "Exactly."_

"_And you have gotten into the habit of making all your decisions based on what would be best for both you and your daughter."_

_She bit her lip, wondering how one man could get so deep under her skin and so close to her soul. "Yes."_

"_And, apart from the idea that your daughter will be upset at her parents' divorce, you have your own reputation to consider."_

"_I want to get ahead in my career because I'm hands-on, not panties-off." _

"_Which is a praiseworthy goal for any businesswoman," Jason said, then folded her hand into his and looked straight at her. "And because I respect you for your courage and integrity, because I admire you for your strength and because you look wonderful in that dress, I don't intend on giving up on my dream of you."_

_She wanted to kiss him. "Jason …"_

"_I am not going to pressure you into anything you don't want. If you want me to be your friend, I'll French braid your hair and discuss boys all day long. If you want me to be nothing but a business partner, I'll keep the conversation limited to corporate governance and the King Code. But, Lorelai, if you want me to be anything more than that," Jason leaned over and kissed her neck in a way that made her toes curl, then softly whispered, "you just have to say the word."_

"Lorelai, Margie from Jason Stiles' office just phoned," Maude said, walking into Lorelai's office to hand her a pink message slip. Maude's face, usually lined with laughter, was concerned. "He had to cancel his meeting today. Apparently his father had a heart attack."

Lorelai's eyes flashed to Maude's face, trying to guage how serious Floyd's situation was. "Is he … is it …"

Maude shook her head. "He's been admitted to the Admiral Brown Memorial Hospital and they are running tests at the moment. Between you and me, Margie says Jason is cut up."

Lorelai grabbed her BlackBerry and the Fendi bag dangling from her chair before almost running out of her office. "I have to go."

Maude's eyes widened at Lorelai's unexpected behaviour.

"My father has been Floyd's best friend since they were seven," Lorelai explained, quick to quell any office gossip, pressing the button on the elevator repeatedly. "I need to go to him."

Maude nodded. "I will take messages and forward no calls."

Lorelai gave her a brief smile. "Thank you, Maude."

The journey from her office to his apartment lasted an eternity. She barely parked the Merc before she leapt out, hardly hearing the music blaring from a record shop across the road.

_When you get what you want, but not what you need. When you feel so tired, but you can't sleep. Stuck in reverse. And the tears come streaming down your face._

"Hey, lady," an irate construction worker yelled, "you can't park on a yellow line!"

_When you lose something you can't replace. When you love someone, but it goes to waste. Could it be worse?_

"I left a business card with my number in case the city tows me," she yelled back, then ran up the stairs. She knocked on his door urgently, hoping he would be here, knowing that the hospital would have sent him and Carol back home to rest until the tests were done.

_Lights will guide you home._

"Go away!" a voice yelled from inside.

She knocked again and he yanked the door open, his red-rimmed eyes blazing with a fury that dissipated when he saw her.

_And ignite your bones._

"I came as soon as I heard," she said, reaching for his hand. "Do you want me to come inside?"

Jason opened the door wider and she stepped across the threshold.

_And I will try to fix you._


	8. Trust I Seek And I Find In You

**8 – Trust I Seek And I Find In You**

_A/N: "Nothing Else Matters" written and performed by metal legends Metallica. Please be patient with me for the next update – starting a new job while finishing my current one, moving house, finalising my dissertation and giving attention to one very demanding dog. Hope you enjoy the chapter and remember, reviews are happy little kittens that makes everyone smile! _

Jason stirred and awoke slowly, blinking in sleep-ridden surprise at the darkened room around him. The furniture, bathed in moonlight from the open window, seemed unfamiliar. His body, his mind, his soul, hurt.

_Lounge. __Asleep __on __couch __in __lounge? __Must __get __more __comfortable __couch._

The memories of the previous day came crushing back. The phone call. The hospital. His father, crumpled in a hospital bed. Being sent back from the hospital. Grabbing the bottle of Jack he kept under the sink "for emergencies". Pouring his first shot, slumped at the kitchen table, wondering if he ever really knew his father. Pouring his second shot. Wondering if he would be given the opportunity to get to know his father. Pouring his third shot. Tears like daggers. The knock on his door. Lorelai. Her warm, soft voice. Her eyes like beacons of hope.

He suddenly sat up straight, realising that he could hear the quiet tapping of a keyboard from his upstairs bedroom. He followed the sound and found Lorelai, sitting cross-legged on his bed, working away on her laptop. She looked up when the door creaked and smiled at him, a smile that gathered all the shards of his broken, bitter heart. He only half-recognised the soft melodic rock pouring from her laptop's speakers.

_So close, no matter how far. _

"What's the time?" he asked, fuzzily, walking to her and stretching out on his bed.

_Couldn't be much more from the heart._

She patted his knee. "Between midnight snack and breakfast."

_Forever trusting who we are and nothing else matters._

He languidly reached for a silver box tied with a pink Hermès scarf on his nightstand and handed it to her. "This should tide you over until the sun comes up."

_I never opened myself this way._

"Why do you send me gifts?" she asked, cradling the box in her hands.

_Life is ours. We live it our way._

"Because I enjoy making you smile," he said honestly. He watched her unwrap the scarf, watched her lips part in astonishment at the delicate Belgian chocolate daisies, watched her trace the yellow and white icing. "And that was because I couldn't decide whether to send you flowers or chocolates, so I got you both."

_All these words I don't just say._

"Jason …"

_And nothing else matters._

He took her hand and pulled her closer to his body. She obligingly laid her head on his shoulder and he breathed her in, the scent of vanilla and raspberries that had permeated his dreams. "Thank you for being here," he said, speaking softly so as not to wake himself from what was surely a dream.

_Yeah, trust I seek and I find in you. _

"I couldn't stay away," she said, simply, raising herself on one elbow and looking down at him. "I had to be with you when I heard about your dad. I spoke with my father earlier. He says that your mother told my mother that the test results will only be ready tomorrow morning, but that your father is in a stable condition at the moment. They are not allowing any visitors for the moment. Not even family. I asked."

_Every day for us something new._

He reached up, tracing the curve of her cheek with a loving finger. "How can you be here?"

_Open mind for a different view and nothing else matters. _

"Rory is safe with my parents. I told her something came up. Christopher went off to Berlin yesterday."

_So close, no matter how far. Couldn't be much more from the heart. Forever trusting who we are and nothing else matters. _

He nodded, drained and thankful, and tucked her into the crook of his arm. For the first time in his life, holding onto her like a teddy bear, Jason slept with another person in his bed.

_I never opened myself this way. Life is ours. We live it our way. All these words I don't just say and nothing else matters._

xxxxxxxxxx

Lorelai was in a hurry. She stripped to her La Perla underwear as she quietly ran inside her bedroom, eager to get changed and get to her office. While she might have stemmed the tide of office gossip yesterday, showing up in the same outfit would definitely cause some tongues to wag. She quickly changed into a Donna Karan suit with a matching blouse, wondering how Jason was doing. Before she had come home to change, she had driven him to the Admiral Brown Memorial.

_I already miss him. _

As Lorelai applied fresh make-up, she froze and tilted her head, listening. Yes, there were definitely voices coming from her daughter's bedroom.

_At ten on a Thursday morning?_

"Either Chilton Academy made some interesting changes to its attendance policies," Lorelai said as she opened the door to her daughter's bedroom, "or you were just caught out playing hookey."

Rory and Tristan scrambled off Rory's bed and hurriedly gathered the clothes that were strewn around the room. Lorelai closed her eyes in shocked disbelief, hoping that the scene would disappear when she opened them. It didn't. Her beautiful teenage daughter, who should be learning stuff at school and preparing herself for college, was still at home on a Thursday morning, hastily getting dressed with a boy in her room.

"Missus Hayden, none of this is Rory's fault," Tristan said, buttoning his blue cotton shirt with one hand and grabbing his shoes with the other. "She didn't want to skip school today, but I twisted her arm."

Lorelai shot him a look that could stop a charging elephant. "Get out, Tristan," she said, levelly. Tristan left the room like a scalded cat. Mother and daughter locked eyes. "Sit down, Rory."

Rory sat down on her bed, flushing red with embarassment and discomfort. "We weren't … you know …"

"I'm glad," Lorelai evenly replied, sitting down on the stool at Rory's vanity. "Are you, though?"

"Am I what?" Rory asked, confused at first. Then the meaning of her mother's words hit her. "God, no! I mean, he wants to and we almost, but …"

"Does he pressure you?"

"No."

"Good." Lorelai paused for a moment, unsure of how to continue. On any other day, she would have reacted with her usual theatricality. But her concern for Jason, her need to be there for him if he wanted her, had kept her awake for most of the night and, despite her morning shot of caffeine, she was tired to her core. Too tired for dramatics.

_If I don't handle this situation just right, it's going to cause a rift between Rory and myself. And she's going to need her mother more than ever in the next few weeks. _

"Rory, I stopped thinking of you as a kid the day you told me that Dubya is a poopyhead," she began, noticing that her daughter was taken aback by her calm demeanour. "You and I have always been friends first, mother and daughter second. And that's been because we have always treated each other with respect and honesty. Am I right?"

Rory nodded, keeping her eyes on her shoes.

"There's been very few instances when I have played the mother card and refused you permission to do something you wanted. Those instances have always been to protect you from harm when you were too young to protect yourself."

Rory nodded again, feeling increasingly ashamed.

"Now you are old enough to make your own decisions when it comes to boys. And, as your take on Dubya show, you clearly have good instincts. I am not going to get hysterical or forbid you from seeing Tristan, because I trust you to do what is right. I don't need to protect you from boys, because you can protect yourself well enough." Lorelai paused, wondering how her own mother would react to this speech.

_Come on, Lorelai. You know she would call Welfare before you even got to Dubya._

"Thanks, Mom," Rory mumbled guiltily.

"But I have the right to be concerned that you are skipping school. I'm concerned because you have worked very hard to keep your grades high enough to stay in a prestigious school and I'm concerned because this is completely out of character. Is it the first time you have done this?"

Rory shook her head slowly, unable to look at her mother.

"Oh, Rory," Lorelai sighed. "Why?"

Rory chewed her lip, indecisively.

"Come on, kid. You know you can tell me whatever you want."

"Because it doesn't matter," Rory exploded, getting up from the bed and pacing around her room. "You and Granddad are so well-known in business circles that I could be the Dumbo of the family and I'd still get into any Ivy League school based on name recognition. It doesn't matter if I go to school or not."

Lorelai was taken aback.

"No matter how good my grades are, no matter how hard I work, I'm just going to get into Yale because you went there and because Grandfather went there and because his father went there. And even if I work hard at it, even if I deserve a place at Yale because I'm the best damn person for the place, everybody is just going to think that I got in on my family name anyway. So I might as well go shopping when I should be in Spanish or go hang out at Tristan's house when I should be in math class."

"And what happens once you get to Yale?" Lorelai asked steadily.

Rory paused her pacing and looked at Lorelai. "H?"

"What happens once you get to Yale and you can't rely on your family's name to help you pass tests or get A's on papers? Once you get to Yale, you're going to need your smarts and work ethic to keep up with your workload." Lorelai got up and cupped her daughter's face in her hands. "Rory, you are exceptionally intelligent person. You can do so much with your life. If people think your achievements are based on your family name, it's up to you to prove that it is based on your own merits. I have had to do that for most of my life and, let me tell you, it's a pretty sweet revenge to take the office of the person who thought you couldn't do your job."

"Revenge. Now that's a healthy ambition," Rory sniffed.

"It's better than throwing away all your chances of success and achievement because of other people's opinions."

Rory exhaled, a deep quivering breath than seemed to cleanse her of all misgivings. She leaned into her mother's embrace and closed her eyes. "I'm sorry, Mom."

"I know," Lorelai said, rubbing her daughter's back. "I still get the feeling I should punish you somehow for playing hookey. Maybe force you to listen to Linkin Park."

Rory half-laughed, half-shuddered. "What if I promise not to do it again?"

"Fair enough."

"What on earth is going on here?" Emily asked from the open door. "Rory, you are supposed to be in school. Lorelai, you are supposed to be in the office. Do you two have no sense of responsibility? No work ethic? No principles?"

"Rory started feeling sick at school and I thought it best to bring her home," Lorelai slickly intervened. Emily immediately started fussing over Rory and bustled off to find a maid to prepare some ghastly traditional cure-all.

"Now, you had better not lie to your mother the way I lie to mine or I will reconsider that Linkin Park punishment," Lorelai whispered to her daughter. Before Rory could reply, Emily came back with a highball glass filled with amber liquid. "Whoa. That had better not be whisky you are giving my sixteen year old daughter, Mother."

"It's not," Emily said succinctly, forcing Rory to sip the concoction. Rory gagged, but obediently swallowed the contents of the glass. "Your grandmother used to say this could cure anything short of death. Now, go have a nice bath and then into bed with you. I think you are completely overworked at that school of yours, Rory. You deserve a day off. I'm going to call Bitty Charlestone tonight and tell her to give Hanlin a piece of my mind. Lorelai, your father just phoned from the hospital. Apparently Floyd will have to be kept quiet and on a rather Spartan diet, but there seems to be no permanent damage and he is out of immediate danger."

Relief flooded Lorelai's soul. "Thank God," she exclaimed, thinking of Jason's red-rimmed eyes. Emily gave her a surprised look. "I mean," Lorelai qualified, "Dad will be very relieved that his friend is doing well."

"Yes," Emily concurred, wondering if there was anything more to her daughter's reaction. Carol did tell Richard to ask Emily to thank Lorelai for driving Jason to the hospital. "He will be."


	9. Steak, Whisky And Chris's Girl

**9 – Steak, Whisky and Chris's Girl**

_A/N: Thank you all for the feedback! And I have skin like a pachyderm – I don't view criticism as a personal attack, so feel free to point out anything you dislike or disagree with. The Lorelais will visit a snowy Stars Hollow within the next few chapters, depending on where my imagination takes me. I've written a large chunk of this chapter before I actually started with the story itself. It's one of my personal favourites – please review and tell me what you think! Lyrics and original performance of "Jessie's girl" by Rick Springfield. _

xxxxxxxxxx

"I like it when Tristan gets himself suspended," Paris said complacently, twirling the spaghetti on her fork. "You actually come to school then."

"Hey," Rory protested, throwing a bread roll at her. "I haven't Ferris Bueller'ed a single day the past month."

Rory had kept her promise to her mother and had reported timeously to all her classes since Lorelai caught her and Tristan four weeks ago. Tristan had agreed to keep her company in class "for the sheer novelty", until a combination of boredom and beer had prompted him to liberate all the ducklings from the senior year science classes. Before he set the ducklings waddling between the corridors, he had painted their webbed feet a variety of bright colours. The custodial staff had struggled for days to wash the turquoise, magenta, lime and brick red stains from the tiled floors.

"So," Paris began, unsure of how to continue, "how is the relationship at home?"

"Well, it won't warrant a showcase on Dr Phil," Rory sighed, chasing a meatball around her plate, "but it's not exactly Happy Families either. Luckily, my grandmother thinks my mother is just anxious to move back into our house."

"Contractors still fudging up?"

Rory nodded. "They just finished mopping up the third floor when a new guy cut all the electricity connections on the first floor."

"You should sue, Gilmore."

"Apparently the new guy was just a stand-in for the day, covering for his brother or something like that. By the way, you've been my friend since we were four. I think it's about time you learned my surname, Geller."

"I've just always thought of you as a Gilmore, not a Hayden," Paris shrugged. "There's practically nothing of Straub's mulish insensitivity or Francine's insipidness in you."

"Thanks for adding the 'practically'," Rory noted.

"Like you wouldn't much rather take after Richard with his stoic, steely intelligence or Emily with her charm and style?" Paris took a sip of water. "Trust me, calling you a Gilmore is doing you a favour."

"Rory! I just got the new Florence and the Machine!" Lane squealed with excitement, dumping her bag and lunch tray on the table and handing Rory a pair of headphones. "You have got to hear this! It's unbelievable! Very early Belle and Sebastian with a blend of Dashboard Confessional and Camera Obscura and just the faintest traces of Cee-Lo Green. You're going to love it!"

"How could I refuse after such an enthusiastic review?" Rory smiled, listening to the song.

"With a firm voice and a good vocabulary," Paris suggested.

"Not even your acerbic remarks can bum me out today, Paris," Lane said cheerily.

"Nice use of 'acerbic' and 'bum' in the same sentence," Rory commented.

"Thanks. It's a combination I plan on using in the SATs."

Paris shredded a meatball with her fork. "So what are our plans for Friday night?"

"I'm flattered," Lane teased, "but you're not my type, Paris."

Paris flung Rory's bread roll at her. Lane deftly ducked and the roll hit the unsuspecting Brad Langford, who looked around in shocked surprise.

"Who is coming to the dance on Friday and who with?" Madeleine asked as she and Louise sat down at the table.

"We were actually just trying to establish that," Rory replied, sipping her fruit juice. "It's a safe bet that I'll be coming with Tristan. Lane?"

"Well, my mother hasn't found a suitable soon-to-be-doctor to set me up with," Lane sighed, "so I'll be joining you in the spirit, but not the flesh."

"My mother has set me up with a suitable soon-to-be-doctor," Paris sighed, equally depressed, "so I'll be joining you in the flesh, but not in the spirit."

"A little spirits is the cure for that," Louise said meaningfully.

"I'll take Bowman, you take Duncan?" Madeleine suggested to Louise.

Louise considered and shrugged. "Why not? Hope you've taught Duncan to control his tongue, though."

Madeleine nodded. "Had to use a taser at one stage, but it worked."

"Are they being serious?" Lane whispered to Paris.

"I've never worked up the courage to ask," Paris replied. "To be honest, either answer would freak me out."

"How are we doing with chaperones?" Louise asked. "Rory, is your mother coming? She's always good for a laugh."

Rory shook her head. "She and my grandparents have a do on Friday night. Themed 'Whisky, Steak And Other Reasons To Live', I believe."

"Sounds like a Lorelai-approved event," Louise chuckled. "Can I swing an invite?"

"But what about Duncan and his newly trained tongue?" Rory asked innocently.

"Is it normal for rich people to base parties on whisky, steak and sex?" Lane enquired.

"Not ones with a modicum of taste, no," Paris replied, shredding another meatball.

The bell rang and the five girls got up to go to their next classes. "Actually," Rory said as they walked out of the lunch hall, "it's a party for a friend of my grandfather's. He had a heart attack a while ago and his wife says he's being pretty glum. They're hoping that the party will snap him out of his funk."

"By glorifying the very lifestyle that caused his cardiac arrest?" Paris snorted. "That's a sensible approach."

"Maybe they're hoping to get their hands on his vast, untold riches," Lane pointed out.

"Could be," Paris reflected. "In which case, it does become a slightly more subtle way of finishing what the heart attack has started."

"Subtle only when compared to injections of digitalis," Lane countered.

Rory glared at them both. "Lane, I never thought I'd say this, but you get more and more like Paris every day."

"Take it back!" Lane and Paris said in unison, then looked at each other and smiled.

xxxxxxxxxx

"So, I'll be seeing you at the steak and whisky shindig on Friday?" Jason asked Lorelai as the waitress brought two thick slices of cheesecake and coffee. During Floyd's stay in ICU, they had formed the habit of meeting for lunch at a cutesy coffeeshop across the road from the Admiral Brown Memorial Hospital. Despite its annoyingly tiny coffee cups, Lorelai had come to love the privacy of their daily rendezvouz. It was not the kind of coffeeshop that anyone from their business world would ever venture into and she could relax in Jason's company.

"I have a new dress that definitely falls in the 'Other Reasons To Live' category," Lorelai winked salaciously, "so I'm not staying away for anything other than a Prada shoe sale."

"Good. We can start telling people that you and I are in a relationship," Jason stated casually.

Lorelai choked on the crumbs of her cheesecake.

"As serious as a dip on the stock market," Jason said, stirring sugar into Lorelai's coffee and handing her the cup. "At the risk of sounding maudlin, my father's heart attack made me realise that life is too short to fritter away. And I don't want to waste our days, sneaking around like I'm supposed to feel guilty for being in love with you."

"I agree. No fritter unless it's made of pumpkin and covered in cinnamon sugar," Lorelai said, twining her fingers through Jason's. "But are you sure you are ready to make our relationship public?"

"I don't see any reason to wait," Jason answered. "You've told Rory."

Lorelai nodded and sipped her coffee. "I spoke to her two days after Floyd's heart attack."

"_Rory? Could you put down your obscure Russian poetry for a moment?"_

"_Sure." Rory flopped down on the couch next to her mother. "Obscure Russian poetry is not the best way to spend a Friday night anyway."_

"_Yeah, obscure Finnish poetry is much cooler," Lorelai agreed. "Although I'm happy to see you beavering away at your schoolwork again."_

"_Thanks for the talk yesterday." _

"_Put it on your list of Reasons to Love Mommy," Lorelai said, patting her daughter's knee. "Listen, Rory, I need to discuss something with you. I need you to listen to what I say and to be your usual calm self."_

"_Why? Did something happen to Dad? Is he okay? Is he not coming back from Berlin?"_

"_That's not being calm, babe."_

_Rory subsided. "I'm sorry. I will be so cool now that you'll mistake me for John Reese."_

"_Hold on to that feeling." Lorelai took a deep breath. "Honey, you know that I have your best interests at heart. You know I wouldn't deliberately try to hurt you or upset you. You know that, right?"_

"_Yeah, Mom, you're great."_

"_Hold on to that feeling, too." Lorelai took another deep breath. "I think you're mature enough to understand what I need to tell you. I love you. Your dad loves you. When I found out I was pregnant, it was for the best that your dad and I got married. But … things change, Rory. People change. And I don't think my being married to your dad is what's for the best anymore."_

_Rory stared at Lorelai blankly. "Mom, if you are making a joke …"_

"_I'm not."_

"_Oh." _

_Lorelai studied her daughter's pale face, wondering what she was thinking. "Any thoughts?"_

_Rory ran a shaking hand through her hair. "I will have, once I've processed the information."_

"_Need some of your grandmother's cure-all?"_

_Rory shook her head. "I think that was basically whisky with a touch of steak sauce anyway."_

"_Whisky and steak. Two of the Gilmore reasons to live."_

"_Do you still love Dad?"_

"_I will probably always love your father," Lorelai said honestly. "But there are different types of love. I used to love him as a husband, but now I love him as a friend."_

"_Do you love somebody else?"_

"And you told Christopher."

"_A divorce? God, Lore. That's not funny." Christopher frowned, shrugged out of his black leather jacket and sank down on the couch. "That trip from Berlin was nothing but turbulence and funny smells. Come cuddle your husband and make him feel better."_

_Lorelai remained standing in the kitchen, folding her arms across her chest to keep her heart from pouring out. "I'm not joking, Chris."_

_Christopher stared at Lorelai, the disbelief in his eyes gradually fading into naked hurt. "But … why?"_

_Lorelai almost laughed. "You mean apart from the fact that we don't see each other for more than five days in any given month?"_

"_So I can cut back on my travels. I can stay in Hartford, if you miss me that much," Christopher said wildly, getting to his feet and crossing the distance to Lorelai in three quick strides, taking her hands in his. "I can quit my job, if you want me to. You can quit your job and come with me. Rory, too. We can homeschool her. We can be a family again."_

_Lorelai pulled away. "Chris, I don't …"_

"_Lore, I love you." _

_Lorelai rubbed the salt from her eyes. "I know."_

"_Don't you love me?"Christopher implored her, his voice on the verge of tears. _

"_I will always love you, Chris, but not the way I used to when I was sixteen."_

"_Well, you can get that feeling back," Christopher urged, cupping her face in his hands. "Now that I know unhappy you are, I can make you happy again, Lore, I know I can. Just give me a chance."_

_Lorelai felt her heart split between the boy of her past and the man of her future. "Chris …"_

"_Are you in love with somebody else?" Christopher asked, not believing that it could be the case. "It doesn't matter. Even if you are, I can make you fall in love with me again. Just like when we were sixteen and I knew that I wanted to marry you and spend the rest of my life with you."_

"_I don't think that's possible anymore, Chris."_

"And now it's up to me to tell the people in my world," Jason said simply. "I was thinking of donning a cowboy outfit and whooping. Perhaps fashion farmyard animals out of red balloons to hand out to the kids who aren't old enough to understand the full meaning of the word 'yahoo'."

Lorelai smiled, touched by his enthusiasm. "But you're not ready to tell your world, Jason."

"The Stetson hat in my closet begs to differ."

"I wouldn't believe it if it walked in here and told me itself." Lorelai crumbled a piece of cheesecake with her fork. "Are you sure you want to go public and tell everyone you know that the first serious relationship you've had in years is with an almost-divorced thirty-two year old with a sixteen-year old daughter?"

Jason's eyes caressed Lorelai's face. "I couldn't imagine anyone better."

xxxxxxxxxx

"Richard."

"Hmmm."

"Richard, did you remember to remind Christopher about the party tonight?"

Richard lowered his newspaper and peered at Emily over his reading glasses. "I have always thought it best to leave our social arrangements in your capable hands, Emily."

Emily tutted. "I did invite him, but I wanted you to remind him. He needs to be there tonight."

"I believe that Christopher as a business meeting in Boston tonight. In any event, I am sure Floyd can celebrate meat, single malt and cigars perfectly well without our son-in-law."

"Richard, Lorelai and Christopher are not happy."

Richard folded his newspaper neatly and laid it on the dining table. "Emily, our daughter's marriage is her affair. We cannot meddle in it."

"We can if she's being silly."

"Nobody who has passed the Series 63 examinations the way Lorelai has can be deemed silly."

"It affects Rory, too, you know. If she divorces Christopher for whatever frivolous reason, it will make Rory very unhappy."

"I realise that. But Lorelai will do as she pleases. She has married Christopher to oblige us. Do you honestly expect she will remain married to him simply to keep us happy?" Richard placed his reading glasses in their carrying case. "Now, what makes you so sure that she wants to divorce Christopher?"

"Well, Lorelai was very attentive of Jason during Floyd's illness," Emily fretted.

"That is a sign of loyalty and consideration, not adultery."

"And Jason looks at her like she's going to give him a lapdance."

"That could be the effect of some of the outfits your daughter insists on wearing."

Emily sighed. "Mock if you must," she said, pulling out her chair and heading towards the kitchen. "But I know that something is wrong between those two and I would like to fix it."

Richard took hold of Emily's hand as she walked past his chair. "Emily, your concern for the happiness of your family is touching. But don't fret. Whatever the problems exist between Christopher and Lorelai is between Christopher and Lorelai. We have no right to interfere. And I for one am looking forward to seeing my wife dressed in one of her elegant outfits and taking her for a spin across the dancefloor."

xxxxxxxxxx

"You look even more beautiful than usual, Mary." Tristan expertly pinned a white corsage on Rory's wrist and leaned forward to kiss her, then whispered, "even though it's more Magdalene than Virgin tonight."

Rory giggled. "Shush, my mother can probably hear you."

"Well," Emily said, walking into the foyer with Lorelai and giving the teenagers an approving look. "You two look marvellous together. Lorelai, don't they look marvellous?"

Lorelai looked at her daughter in her blue vintage Versace dress and Tristan in his charcoal Tom Ford tuxedo. Rory had her hair pinned up and looked like a 1930s model. "Hartford's answer to Bella and Edward, Mom."

"Oh, now, that's just wrong," Rory objected.

"Yes," Tristan agreed. "I'm much more of a Jacob than an Edward."

"I've always been a member of Team Emmett myself," Emily opined.

Rory, Lorelai and Tristan stared at her.

"Ah, Tristan. You look remarkably like your grandfather during our days together on the Whiffenpoofs," Richard said, strolling down the stairs and shaking hands with Tristan. "My, the ladies of my family certain all look lovely tonight. Emily, are you about ready to go? I don't wish to keep Floyd and Carol waiting."

Emily took his arm and smiled at him. "Lorelai can follow us in her car. See you at the Peach Room, Lorelai. Rory, I hope you and Tristan enjoy the dance. Be back by eleven, you hear?"

"Twelve is fine," Lorelai smiled when Richard and Emily had left. "With all the whisky in their future tonight, they won't be able to tell what day of the week it is. Now, pose for the obligatory picture."

"Mom …"

Lorelai gave Rory a stern look. "If I don't get a picture of you before every single school dance you attend, I will get into trouble with headquarters. They will take back my pearls and my copy of Mommy Dearest."

xxxxxxxxxx

"May I say how lovely you look tonight?" Jason asked as he appeared at Lorelai's side with two glasses. She took the Merlot and left him with the whisky as he gave her an appreciative look, drinking in the sight of her a column of silk the colour of a sunrise.

"Only if you want to go make-out in the coatroom later." Lorelai sipped her wine, feeling a curl of warmth in her stomach that had little to do with the alcohol.

Jason drained his glass with a quick toss of his head.

"Whoa, cowboy," Lorelai half-laughed. "I know spending time with stuffy insurance men can be boring, but you'll be dancing on the table with a feather boa if you keep drinking like that."

"Every party needs a little indiscretion and this one has been remarkably discreet thus far."

Lorelai nodded as she glanced around the Peach Room, one of Hartford's premier ballrooms. It was decorated like a combination between a Cuban cigar bar and a New England whisky tasting.

"Congratulations on getting a band with a drummer and a bassist," Lorelai said, gesturing in the direction of the make-shift stage on which a group of musicians was playing jazz. "It's great to hear something other than the obligatory string quartet."

Jason nodded. "Which reminds me. I need to go take care of something quick. There may be no string quartets, but the speeches remain obligatory. You like eighties rock, right?"

"Almost as much as I like you, my daughter and oxygen."

"Good."

Lorelai watched him walk over to the stage, non-plussed. He spoke softly to one of the musicians and spoke into the microphone, asking the guests to take their seats. "We are here to celebrate whisky, steak and the other reasons to live. Now, the other reasons to live are a rather broad category encompassing everything from politics to the perfect hole on the country club course. My personal favourite reason to live is here tonight and I would pray your indulgence for a quick indiscretion."

He took the acoustic guitar handed to him by one of the musicians. His fingers tried a few chords and then a familiar guitar riff formed, floating through the smoky air.

_Oh, Jason …_

"Jessie is a friend. Yeah, I know he's been a good friend of mine," Jason started singing _a__capella_, tapping the beat against the guitar. His voice was unexpectedly excellent, right on pitch and gruff with emotion. "But lately something's changed that ain't hard to define. Jessie's got himself a girl and I want to make her mine."

The drummer started thumping a steady beat.

"And she's watching him with those eyes," Jason continued, looking directly at Lorelai. "And she's loving him with that body, I just know it. And he's holding her in his arms late, late at night."

The rest of the band joined in to play the chorus.

"You know, I wish that I had Jessie's girl," Jason sang, not taking his eyes off Lorelai. "I wish that I had Jessie's girl. Where can I find a woman like that?"

Jason jumped off the stage in a surprisingly acrobatic move, holding the microphone in his hand and leaving the guitar on the stage. "I play along with the charade. There doesn't seem to be a reason to change." He made his way over to Lorelai's table. "You know, I feel so dirty when they start talking cute. I want to tell her that I love her," Jason kneeled in front of Lorelai, taking her hand and kissing it gently, "but the point is probably moot. Cause she's watching him with those eyes. And she's loving him with that body, I just know it. And he's holding her in his arms late, late at night."

Jason took a deep breath before plunging into the chorus, still holding Lorelai's hand. "You know, I wish that I had Chris's girl. I wish that I had Chris's girl."

The guests were beginning to whisper as the implications of Jason's serenade hit them, but Jason never took his eyes off Lorelai as he started the final verse. "And I'm looking at the mirror all the time, wondering what she'll see in me. I've been funny, I've been cool with the lines. Ain't that the way love's supposed to be?"

The drummer continued the beat, building up to a crescendo.

"Tell me," Jason sang, "where can I find a woman like that? You know, I wish that I had Chris's girl. I wish that I had Chris's girl. I want Chris's girl. I want, I want Chris's girl."

The song crashed to an end.


	10. The Night Before The Morning After

**10 – The Night Before The Morning After**

_A/N: Again I thank you all for the feedback and hand out roses all round! I love the thumbs-up and I appreciate the criticism. Most of the questions posed in the reviews will be answered soon, but I prefer doing that through the writing rather than in spoilers mentioned here. (One mini-spoiler: Luke is not single ... not the first time Lorelai meets him, anyway.) I'm not feeling the Jason love from you guys … did he kick somebody's puppy that I don't know about?_

xxxxxxxxxx

A stunned silence echoed through the Peach Room. Then, as per Jason's earlier instructions, the bassist invited Floyd to say a word of thanks to all the guests. Out of polite Pavlovian reflexes, the guests stopped staring at Lorelai and stared at Floyd instead. Jason took the opportunity to lead Lorelai out of the ballroom and onto the balcony, glancing at her and wondering what she thinks.

_If all else fails, Stiles, blame it on the Jack. At least she's smiling. God, watching her smile is like watching a sunrise._

"So with 'let me tell people we're in a relationship', you meant 'let me impersonate Rick Springfield'?" Lorelai queried, unsure of what to say or how to stop the smile spreading across her face.

"I know you were probably expecting Bowie, but I try to subvert expectations," Jason said, tucking his jacket around her bare shoulders. Lorelai pulled the jacket close, enjoying the feel of a cashmere hug. "Did you like it?"

"I wasn't sure whether to throw my underwear or my drink at you," Lorelai admitted.

"When in doubt, go for the underwear."

"That's always been my motto."

"Explains why you were so popular at camp."

Lorelai grinned. "You do realise that, after that performance, there's almost no way of convincing people that you don't like me."

Jason folded her waist in his hands and kissed her passionately in reply, pressing her close to him. "Now why would I want to do a silly thing like that?" he whispered, stroking her cheek, his voice ragged with desire and joy.

"No reason I can think of," Lorelai said throatily, leaning into him for another kiss.

"Lorelai Victoria Hayden!"

"Okay, maybe one reason," Lorelai corrected herself and turned to face the wrath of Emily. Jason kept his arm around her with a mixture of protectiveness and pride.

"If you weren't so fond of your Sex and the City ensembles, this would not have happened," Emily fumed and pointed a warning finger at Lorelai. "That's it. Tomorrow, you start dressing like one of the women from The View."

"Emily, Lorelai could dress like she's Amish and I would still have sung that song," Jason intervened.

"Tomorrow, young man, you join Alcoholics Anonymous," Emily snapped at him. "Really, Lorelai. What on earth were you thinking?"

"'Yahoo'," Lorelai answered.

"Jason," Floyd said, strolling out to them. "I never believed you to be one for such public displays of affection."

"I think that was closer to a public plea of insanity," Richard said, stepping out onto the balcony. Unlike Emily, he was not flushed with rage. Yet his grasp around his whisky glass was precariously white-knuckled and his eyes were not smiling. "Although we could have used some of your … flair for the Whiffenpoofs."

"The way you dance, Richard, we could have used a lot of Jason's flair," Floyd chuckled.

"Jealousy does not become you, Floyd."

Lorelai nudged Jason quietly. "Any way we can get off this balcony without breaking our necks?"

"I can jump first and break your fall."

"But what about you?"

"Jack can probably break my fall."

Lorelai grinned as she glanced at him. "How very romantic."

"I'm a softy at heart," Jason grinned back at her and she could tell from the way his hand tightened around her waist that he wanted to kiss her again.

xxxxxxxxxx

Rory felt like she was floating. So her shoes were pinching, the music was an awful cacophony of generic pop and the punch tasted like pennies. But she was dancing with Tristan in the tuxedo that highlighted the grey in his eyes and the muscles in his chest. She could feel the warmth of his hands through her dress and she snuggled closer to him as they danced, feeling blissfully content.

_Who __says __you __can__'__t __always __get __what __you __want? _she thought dreamily. _I __always __knew __Mick __Jagger __was __full __of __it._

"Can I get you some more punch?" Tristan asked as the song came to an end.

Rory wrinkled her nose. "It tastes like metal."

"Probably the alcohol Duncan and Bowman tipped in there earlier," Tristan said. "A rather uninspired prank, but I suppose someone has to make sure that the punch at the school dance is spiked."

"Spiked and barbed, I think."

"No," Tristan replied seriously, "the barbiturates are supplied to volunteers only."

xxxxxxxxxx

"Ah, here you all are," Carol Stiles said with a Stepford smile as she walked onto the balcony. Apart from Floyd's passive aggressive bonhomie, the conversation had been stilted and uncomfortable. "Floyd, darling, can you come with me? The Salzbergers are on their way."

"How can you just stand there and make flippant remarks about the Whiffenpoofs at a time like this?" Emily hissed at Richard when the Stiles had left.

"Emily, now is neither the time nor the place to discuss this unsavoury topic," Richard said firmly. "I am as disappointed as you are in our daughter's lack of modesty and conceited arrogance that has led her to flaunt an affair in front of all our friends and colleagues. But that is a topic that is best discussed at home."

"I tried discussing it this morning and look what good that did!"

"Emily, Richard, if I may …" Jason began.

"No," Emily snapped. "I think we have all heard quite enough from you for one night!"

"Be that as it may," Jason continued staunchly, "I did not get on that stage and sing that song because I wanted to embarrass you or Lorelai."

Emily sniffed disdainfully. "Well, you certainly embarrassed yourself."

"Emily," Richard said, placing a placatory hand on his wife's back. "Let Jason finish."

"Thank you, Richard. I have not been in a serious relationship since business school and I have not been this happy since I discovered Sno-balls."

"Dirty," Lorelai murmured.

"Lorelai and I are … friends for the moment. Whatever else happens is up to her. If she decides to remain married to Christopher, I will respect that," Jason paused and looked at Lorelai, "however much it may hurt. If she decides to leave Christopher and make me the happiest man alive, I will respect that too. All I ask is that you allow her the opportunity to make the decision for herself."

"Uh, Jason?" Lorelai said, tapping him on his shoulder. "Remember how I said I've told Rory and Chris about the D-word?"

Jason nodded.

"Well, I didn't tell them," Lorelai explained, jabbing a thumb in Emily and Richard's direction.

"A _divorce_?" Emily exploded.

"I can tell," Jason said, stroking his bearded chin thoughtfully. "Any particular reason?"

"Are you trying to give your mother a stroke?" Richard barked as Emily exclaimed, "If this is your idea of a joke, young lady …"

Lorelai gave Jason a meaningful look.

"Ah," Jason said. "I see why."

"I forbid you from getting divorced! Richard, tell her I forbid her!"

"Now, Emily, that is not the correct approach to take with someone as stubborn and pig-headed as Lorelai."

"Well, excuse me for trying to salvage our family's reputation while you ponder the correct approaches!"

Lorelai looked at Jason and touched the balcony's railing. "You jump, I jump, Jack."

"Let's rather use the stairs."

xxxxxxxxxx

"Somebody should remind the DJ that he is bound by the rules of the Geneva Convention like everyone else," Rory muttered, staring at the blurry outlines of her glass. She was sitting on the steps to the ballroom with Paris, waiting for Tristan and Paris's suitable soon-to-be-doctor to return from their smoke break. "One more Nicki Minaj remix and I'm pouring this punch over him."

"Hard to know if he'll get wet or vaporised," Paris mused. "I've tasted some vile concoctions, but Duncan didn't even try for a respectable juice-to-alcohol ratio this time."

"I did not realise the punch packed a punch," Rory said, then giggled. "Punch packing a punch."

Paris shot her an amused look. "At least you're a happy drunk. If you feel the need to throw up, aim that way."

"Nice. Real nice."

"I'm your friend, Gilmore, not your nursemaid."

Rory flung her arms around Paris's neck. "And such a good friend you are, too."

"Hey, no girl-on-girl until I've got the camera ready!" Tristan called from the dark garden.

"Nice," Paris remarked.

Tristan extinguished his cigarette and walked over to the girls. He grinned at Rory, recognising the cause of tomorrow's hangover. "How are you feeling, Mary?"

"Happy," Rory said with a satisfied little sigh.

"I think you should take her home, Tristan," Paris suggested. "And, Rory, you should really drink quite a few glasses of water before you go to bed."

"I think I have drunk enough for one night," Rory said with dignity, wobbling a little as she got to her feet. Tristan reached out a quick hand to stop her from falling over. "Wow, I have four feet. That's cool!"

"Come on, you sexy centipede," Tristan said, herding Rory towards his car.

"Are we going home now? It's not even twelve yet," Rory pouted.

Tristan looked at her from underneath his eyelashes, wondering. "Where do you want to go?"

"Fez!" Rory promptly replied.

Tristan chuckled. "Anywhere in this state?"

"Fez!" Rory repeated.

"Get in the car, you fezhead," Tristan grinned. "We can go for a drive before I take you home."

Xxxxxxxxxx

"I cannot believe that Lorelai thinks she can end a conversation simply by walking out on us," Emily fumed as she walked into the Hartford house with Richard. "Where on earth did she get such deplorable manners?"

Before Richard could reply, Lorelai came running down the staircase. "Rory?" she called, a strange note of urgency in her voice.

"No," Emily answered, her anger swiftly replaced by concern when she saw Lorelai's white face. "Lorelai?"

"Rory is not here," Lorelai said through blanched lips. "It's two in the morning and Rory isn't here. She is supposed to be here, but she's not."

"Did you call her cell phone?" Richard asked.

"I called her. I called Tristan. Neither one answered. I called Paris, but her phone is off," Lorelai fretted, pacing up and down in the foyer. "I don't know where she is, Mom. I don't know where my daughter is."


	11. I Don't Shine If You Don't Shine

**11 – I Don't Shine If You Don't Shine**

A phone never rings at four am with good news. A four am phone rings like an ambulance siren, like a car crash, like a funeral dirge. At four am, good news sleeps while bad news creeps about town, with footsteps like staccato gun shots, setting homes and hearts on fire.

And when your daughter is missing, when she was last seen driving with an irresponsible boy with a beautiful body in a beautiful car, do you want to hear the phone ring? Do you want to hear the voice, speaking as though it's just another late night exercise in sensitivity training, telling you, "We need you to come identify the car. We need you to come identify the driver. We need you to come identify the body."

Do you want the agony of hope or the certainty of pain?

"_You look gorgeous, babe. Very 1930s," Lorelai said, pinning the last of Rory's curls into place. "Remember to take some extra hair spray if you plan on doing the lambada."_

"_I'll need an extra set of feet, too," Rory snorted. _

_Lorelai tilted her head, studying her daughter's reflection in the mirror. "I feel like I'm forgetting something," she mused. "Ah! I'm supposed to lecture you on the evils of dancing, the joys of abstinence and the very many reasons not to drink and drive."_

"_I'm not driving," Rory reminded her. "Tristan is picking me up."_

"_So I should lecture Tristan on the evils of dancing, the joys of abstinence and the very many reasons not to drink and drive."_

"_Sure," Rory shrugged, applying a last coat of mascara. "If you want him to have an aneurysm."_

"_So no sex talks with your boys?"_

"_No sex talks with me, let alone my boys." _

_The Lorelais smiled at each other. "Just be safe, kid," Lorelai said simply, wrapping her arms around her daughter. _

"_Hey, I'm not the one going to a function glorifying alcohol with a man who is not my husband," Rory pointed out, hugging her mother. "I should lecture you on the joys of abstinence and the very many reasons not to drink and drive."_

"_At least you can skip the part on the evils of dancing," Lorelai grinned, striking a pose and stumbling over her feet in the process. _

"Lore?"

Lorelai looked up blankly and saw Christopher hovering in the doorway. She studied his face, a handsome face torn by concern, knowing that her face reflected the worry etched around his eyes. "We were standing here," she whispered, pointed at Rory's vanity. "I helped her with her hair for the dance. And I told her to be safe."

Christopher stretched out a hand to her, not knowing if she could tolerate his touch, but knowing that he had to hold her. "Lore, it's not your fault."

"I told her to be safe, Chris."

Christopher put a tentative hand on her shoulder, then pulled her into his arms. "It's not your fault," he repeated, stroking her hair.

"_I've got the joy, joy, joy, joy, joy, down in my fez. Down in my fez. Down in my fez," Rory sang, tapping her naked toes on Tristan's dashboard in an irregular rhythm._

"_Don't take this the wrong way," Tristan said in amusement, "but spare yourself the trip to audition on X Factor."_

"_I so have the X Factor," Rory said, glaring at Tristan. "I have X coming out of my ears, I'll have you know."_

"_Never say that out loud in a night club," Tristan advised, chuckling. _

"_There is something to be said for the pleasures of Duncan's punch," Rory mulled, tipping her head back to look at the stars flashing past. Tristan had rolled down the top and though the wind was making Rory's hair tumble down in wispy curls, she enjoyed the cool caress on her skin. Like being breathed on by the gods, she thought. Tristan glanced at her, enjoying the sight of her lean body relaxed in the moonlight. "Remember you said that when the hangover kicks in."_

"_Hangovers are for Marys," Rory said decisively, then peeked at the unfamiliar landscape. "Hey, not to put too fine a point on it or anything, but where the hell are we going?"_

"Have you heard anything, Richard?"

Richard looked up from his desk and the open telephone directory, rubbing his tired eyes. "I could not bear to call." He lifted a hand to ward off Emily's criticism. "I simply cannot risk asking at hospitals and police stations, making call after call and blocking the line in case Rory should call us."

"I am sure that there is a perfectly reasonable explanation," Emily said, trying to convince herself. "There must be. Rory is not an irresponsible child."

"But she is still a child, Emily. One who is capable of making the occasional wrong decision."

If not for the decades of marriage, friendship and love, Emily would not have known how to respond. "She is not going to make that particular decision, Richard. She is not that much like Lorelai."

"_I don't know," Tristan admitted with a wide grin. "But I'm pretty sure we haven't crossed any state lines."_

"_Are you being serious?" Rory asked, laughing. "You usually plot and plan everything out on MapQuest before you get in the car."_

"_I believe you are confusing me with you," Tristan pointed out. "And right now, I don't think you're sober enough to spell MapQuest, let alone operate it."_

"_M-A-P-," Rory started, then paused. "Okay, you win."_

"_I should get that in writing. In triplicate. Notarised. Framed."_

"_Wherever we are, it's pretty," Rory said, gazing at the moonlight trees lining the interstate. Their tips were touched by the first snow of the year. Added a few angels and some chocolate and it could've been a Swiss Christmas card, she mused. "Oh, look, there's a lake! Let's go swimming!"_

_Tristan obligingly steered his BMW towards the direction of the lake. A uniformed man with a musket stepped out onto the path in front of the car and pointed his gun at the teenagers. Rory shrieked, part laughter and part shock. _

_But the man did not smile._

The Hartford house, lights ablaze, seemed emptier than usual. Despite the frantic pacing, the worried stillness, the loud voices and the quiet words of the four adults inside, the house was empty. When the phone rang, a strident siren, the four froze at first.

Because no phone rings at four am with good news.

xxxxxxxxxx

"My name is Lorelai Hayden. I am here to pick up my daughter, Rory."

"It is a pleasure to meet you," the Korean woman in the blue shirt said politely, wiping her hands on a cloth. She seemed like a caricature, Lorelai thought, almost Dickensian in her store overflowing with antique furniture and filled with the smell of wood. "Your daughter has impeccable manners and a true generosity of spirit. I approve of her friendship with Lane and she is welcome at our house any time."

"Hopefully under different circumstances the next time," Lorelai said, trying to smile.

Mrs. Kim nodded. "That is to be preferred. However, the smug young boy in the car with her …"

"Believe me," Lorelai said, "there is going to be nothing smug about Tristan once I have spoken to him. Is he here?"

Mrs. Kim shook his head. "His chauffeur ferried him off twenty minutes ago in an ostentatious gold vehicle."

Despite herself, Lorelai felt a tug of sadness for Tristan.

_After the experience he had last night, his parents should at least have come themselves and not sent out Jeeves with the Audi._

"The girls are having breakfast in the kitchen through there," Mrs. Kim gestured.

"Thank you for all your trouble," Lorelai said, with a genuine smile. She walked into the kitchen, where Lane and Rory were avidly discussing the future of indie rock. For a moment, Lorelai stood in the door and watched her daughter talking animatedly, feeling her limbs flooded with sheer relief and joy. Rory had borrowed some of Lane's clothes and, strange as it was to see her in a yellow shirt emblazoned with the slogan 'Trust God', she had never looked this beautiful before. "Hi, kid."

"Mom!" Rory said, jumping to her feet and running to hug her mother. Lorelai held her tight, unwilling to let go of the slim body she was sure she'd never see again. "I am so, so, so sorry."

"And I am more than a little confused, babe," Lorelai said, tucking some of Rory's hair behind her ear and studying her face. "How did you and Tristan end up in Stars Hollow?"

Rory fidgeted with the hem of Lane's T-shirt. "We left the dance early and Tristan said we could go for a drive before he brought me home. Then we got a little lost and …"

"_Kirk! Put that gun down before you hurt yourself!"_

_The uniformed man with the musket glared to his left. "I only shot myself once in the foot, Andrew, and we agreed we weren't going to talk about that again."_

"_You saying that you'll tell Taylor if I tease you is not a legally binding agreement, Kirk," another uniformed man said, stomping out of the bracken and grabbing Kirk's gun. "No," Kirk protested. In the ensuing struggle two shots went off, one through Tristan's front left tyre and one scraping alongside the paint. Rory jumped, feeling the fear burn away the lingering effects of Duncan's punch. The group of men began talking at once, the gabble of voices dominated by a bearded man._

"_This is why I told you! I told you that we should stand by the sign near the square and in our proper formation," he said, gesticulating wildly. "But you had to dig up that yellowed document in the town archives that said …"_

"_Hey!" Tristan yelled as he got out of his car. _

"_Not now, young man," the bearded man said strictly._

"_Now," Tristan insisted, pointing at Kirk. "That idiot shot my car!"_

"_I didn't! It was Andrew who shot your car!"_

"_I didn't! It was you, you idiot!"_

_Another man, wearing a green army jacket and a faded baseball cap, came walking down the path. Rory watched his eyes widen in disbelief at the arguing group and the obvious bullet mark down the side of Tristan's car. _

"_The hell's the matter with you, Taylor? You finally lost your damned mind? As though standing in the snow in uniforms waiting for an enemy that will never come isn't bad enough, you have to go and shoot up kids' cars?" he yelled._

_Taylor tutted. "No adolescent has any sane reason for driving this type of vehicle at this time of night."_

"_Like standing in the snow glorifying a war we fought to keep land we stole from the Native Americans is a hallmark of sanity," the man with the baseball cap snapped, then walked over to Rory. "Are you okay?" _

"_Uhm, yeah," Rory said. "Until my mother gets hold of us, at least."_

_The man grunted. "Not suppose to be out after curfew, huh?"_

_Rory nodded. The man touched her shoulder awkwardly. "I'm sure she's going to be so relieved that you're okay that you'll be let off the hook with a minimum sentence."_

"_I hope you're right," Rory said with a shaky smile, then pointed at the group of men with muskets. "What is this, anyway? Does the local mental institution have bad padlocks?"_

"_No, that's just an annual public declaration of insanity and warped patriotism. And that is the fire chief, that's the police chief and him showing the others how to salute properly is the one paramedic with a valid licence," the man grumbled, kneeling down to check Tristan's tyres. "You're not going to be able to drive on these. I'm going to call Gypsy to tow you out. Hey, Taylor! Give me that cell phone you are always bragging about!"_

_The bearded man tosses a silver phone towards them. _

"_May I please borrow the phone? I need to call my mother to tell her where I am," Rory said. "Hey, where am I anyway?"_

"_The fine town of Stars Hollow," the man replied, handing her the phone. _

"_Hey, do you perhaps know a Lane Kim? She goes to school with me." _

_The man nodded. "Do you want me to take you to her house? You can wait there for your mother."_

"_I don't want to wake her family," Rory hesitated. "I mean, it's just past four. I don't want to be a nuisance."_

"_Well, you won't be," the man said equably. "Missus Kim has gotten up at four for Bible study every day since she was twelve."_

"… so here we are," Rory finished. "Lane's mom was really great."

"What a strange town," Lorelai mused. "The guy with the baseball cap sounds nice, though."

Rory nodded. "He was."


	12. I Never Meant Any Harm To You

**12 – I Never Meant Any Harm To You**

"So," Rory started, a little too casually, as the Lorelais left the Kims' house, "why didn't Dad come with you?"

"If he had," Lorelai said, linking arms with her daughter, "Tristan would have been dead by now."

"Tristan left before you came."

"That wouldn't have made any difference."

"So how much trouble am I in?" Rory asked, glancing sidelong at her mother.

"Right now, everyone is too relieved that you're alive and unhurt for that to be considered," Lorelai said, putting her arm around her daughter's shoulders, "but I have decided on a pink leopard print for your house arrest bracelet."

"That'll match my Chilton uniform and set me apart from the crowd," Rory grimaced. "If I buy you breakfast, can I at least negotiate a nice paisley pattern?"

"As long as it's pink," Lorelai agreed and looked around her for a suitable eatery. The sky was fading from pale purple to blue as dawn faded into morning and bathed the picturesque town in soft light. "Hey, why don't we go there for breakfast?"

Rory squinted at the building Lorelai pointed out. "That looks like a hardware store, Mom."

"Nonsense, it's got a yellow coffee cup hanging over the door."

"That doesn't mean they sell coffee."

"It had better," Lorelai said, walking inside the building and sniffing. "See? Tables, coffee machines and donuts. Throw in Kevin Bacon and this is close to my idea of heaven."

"We're not open yet, Kirk," a gruff voice shouted from the kitchen. "And I'm not letting you in here with that damn musket of yours."

"I'm neither Kirk nor armed," Lorelai yelled back. "Does that mean I can get coffee?"

A rugged man in plaid, wearing a baseball cap and wiping his hands on a striped dish cloth, walked out of the kitchen. As his eyes met Lorelai's, a shock of recognition passed through her. The air between them crackled, as though a stray thunder bolt had knocked down a power line.

_Surely, I've met him before …_

"Oh," Rory interrupted, sounding surprised. "This is my knight from last night. Mom, this is the guy with the baseball cap I told you about."

Lorelai stretched out a hand. "Hi, I'm Lorelai Hayden. Thank you for taking such good care of my kid earlier."

"Luke Danes," the man said automatically, shaking Lorelai's hand. His eyebrows snapped together in a frown. "You really should reconsider who you let your daughter date."

"Believe me," Lorelai answered, "there'll be a lot of reconsidering in the Hayden house after last night."

"Well, then you'll need your coffee." Luke lined up two red mugs on the counter and grabbed the coffee pot. Lorelai sipped at her mug appreciatively. "Bless you," she said. "Wow, this is good coffee."

"You want anything to go with your good coffee?" Luke asked, the faintest traces of a smile crinkling around his eyes.

"Eggs, bacon, pancakes, hash brown and a donut with sprinkles," Lorelai promptly replied and smiled at Rory. "Wow, staying up all night and worrying about your kid gives the appetite a mean edge. Anything for you, babe?"

"French toast, please."

"Good," Lorelai grinned. "Your grandmother is placing you on gruel and water until your first grandchild is born. Which is a highly unlikely possibility, because your grandfather is locking you up in the highest tower he can find. So stock up on the grease while you can."

"My French toast isn't greasy," Luke interjected, sounded offended. "And there's a converted windmill in Litchfield that has a pretty high tower, in case your father needs ideas."

"I'll let him know he has a location scout," Lorelai said.

"Hey, Luke. I'm running to Doose's for ham and bacon. Caesar forgot to put the order in again," a raven-haired woman in jeans and a striped red shirt said as she came in from what Lorelai assumed was the storeroom. She leaned over the counter to kiss Luke quickly, waved at the Lorelais and hurriedly walked out of the diner. Despite her evident rush, her movements were lithe and graceful, her body moving like a dancer to unheard music. Lorelai watched Luke watching the woman, a faint smile softening the lines around his eyes.

"You are being surprisingly calm," Rory interrupted her train of thought.

Lorelai frowned and steered her daughter to one of the tables. "I think I used my quota of worry last night. And then some."

"I'm sorry I made everyone worry so much," Rory mumbled guiltily, tracing a pattern on the table top with a listless finger. "I left my cell phone in the bathroom at Chilton during the dance or I would have called you sooner."

Lorelai placed her hand over Rory's. "You're a teenager, kid," she said, not unkindly. "Getting into trouble, staying out late, dating the wrong boys … well, it's all part of the package. I'm not saying I'm okay with what happened last night, but at the moment I'm very happy that you are alive and that your father isn't in jail for murdering Tristan."

Rory sighed. "It's not Tristan's fault, Mom."

"When my daughter stays out all night," Lorelai said firmly, "I get to dislike the boy she stayed out with."

"I agree," Luke murmured, dropping the plates on the table.

"See?" Lorelai grinned at Rory. "Majority rules."

"Democracy sure is swell," Rory grumbled.

"And I don't think you should see Tristan anymore, kid."

Rory's eyes flashed with angry rebellion. "What happened to trusting me, Mom? What happened to letting me keep myself safe from boys?"

"You getting in a car with a boy after curfew and crashing a group of Civil War re-enactors is what happened." Lorelai speared a pancake with her fork. "Now, I know how this happened with me and my mother. Emily tried to keep me in a gilded cage and tried to force every single detail of my love life from me. And nine months later, you were born."

"You can't blame Grandma for getting pregnant."

Lorelai shook her head. "I'm don't. Not entirely. But I sometimes think that, if I had more space to breathe, I wouldn't have gotten pregnant."

"Breathing doesn't make you pregnant," Luke said, pouring more coffee.

"Hi, stranger, mind butting out of a private conversation between myself and my daughter?"

"Mind not having private conversations between yourself and your daughter in my diner," Luke replied, walking off.

Lorelai glared at his retreating back, then turned her attention to Rory. "So, I don't think forbidding you from seeing Tristan is going to be good for this hip mother-daughter-best-friends-vibe we've got. But you have got to understand why I am worried about you spending any more time with him. He's got you skipping school, staying out after curfew and crashing Civil War parties. I don't want to be worried about my daughter while she's out with her boyfriend."

"Mom, you can't have it both ways," Rory said firmly. "Either you trust me to make up my own mind about who I date and we have a hip mother-daughter-best-friends vibe or you don't trust me and you and I end up like you and grandmother."

xxxxxxxxxx

"Thanks for the clothes," Rory said, handing Lane a neatly wrapped parcel. "I think the 'Trust God' T-shirt helped to calm my grandmother down when I got home on Saturday."

Lane tucked the parcel into her backpack as the girls walked into Chilton Academy. "How did that go?"

Rory winced at the memory. Richard's frosted fury had been the worst. "D-Day seems like a picnic in the park in comparison."

Lane made a sympathetic face. "Grounded for life, I assume?"

Rory nodded. "With a possible dispensation to go the doctor if I'm bleeding from the head. But then only if all the tourniquets are dirty. By the way, your mom was surprisingly cool about having two strange teenagers show up at four in the morning."

"Well, she didn't know that you've been drinking. You hid that pretty well," Lane pointed out. "Plus, I talk to her about school and stuff. She knows that I had a rough time adjusting and the fact that you were the first friendly face I saw at this school goes a long way with Mama Kim."

"Oh."

"Besides, we had an emergency town meeting yesterday to discuss how to re-enact the Civil War next year without vehicular damage. The first town meeting to be held on a Sunday since Taylor Doose wanted to pass a bylaw punishing littering with death."

"That seems harsh," Rory said, wondering if Lane was pulling her leg.

"No, that's just Taylor. He gets a little intense sometimes, especially when the Firelight Festival is around the corner, and when he does, it's very entertaining," Lane grinned. "So what about Tristan?"

"What about Tristan?" Tristan asked as he walked towards them, draping his arm around Rory's shoulders. Rory peeped at him with a smile. "I'm just telling Lane that you are less welcome at my house than a radical Afghani insurgent."

"Nothing new there," Tristan shrugged. "Hopefully your grandparents have cooled down by the time they have their Christmas shindig. I like those apple tarts too much to stay away."

"You and my mother both," Rory replied. "Hey, how badly did your parents react?"

"They didn't. Weren't home when I got there. Off to Marseilles or Rome or somewhere on a second honeymoon slash business trip."

"Aren't you lucky," Rory said wryly.

"Although I'm sure words like 'family name' and 'discipline' and 'military school' will be bandied about once they get back," Tristan sighed. "I think the episode with the liberated ducklings got on my dad's last nerve."

"That wasn't as bad as sabotaging the senior class's yearbook pictures," Rory argued.

"How do you sabotage an entire class's yearbook pictures?" Lane wondered.

"He rigged up a water cannon to spray them with scarlet dye when the photographer stepped forward to take the picture," Rory explained.

Lane whistled. "How very McGuyver of you."

"Thanks," Tristan grinned as the three took their seats in Monday morning calculus. "Unfortunately, my dad didn't quite see it that way. I'm forever amazed by the many ways he can say 'Tristan, you are a disappointment'."

Rory smiled, a little spasm of unease in her stomach. Tristan's pranks were always entertaining and she always viewed them as proof of his ingenuity and intelligence.

_But he doesn't care about the trouble he causes for other people. People who had to wash scarlet dye from school uniforms or paint from the banisters where the ducklings walked. People who got sick from the meat he snuck into the vegetarian options in the cafeteria. Or drunk from the punch at the dance. Oh, God, at least Lorelai didn't pick up that I had been drinking. Life would have been an entirely different ballgame then._

Rory slumped in her seat and pulled her calculus book closer to her. A thought began to niggle at her.

_Maybe I wouldn't like it if my teenage daughter dated someone like Tristan either._


	13. Tell Someone Or Shut Up

**13 – Tell Someone Or Shut Up**

_A/N: Thank you all for the reviews and the feedback. Keep 'em coming!_

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"Morning, Maude," Lorelai said briskly as she walked into the office after dropping Rory off at school. She had felt the temptation to linger in the parking lot, just to make sure that Rory and Tristan didn't pull a Bonnie and Clyde in his soft-top BMW. But she had resisted it.

_No turning into Emily Gilmore. You might not be able to keep her from making all the stupid teenage mistakes it's practically mandatory to make. But if you can retain her trust, maintain a loving relationship, she'll tell you about them herself. She'll come to you for help, for advice, for a good laugh. And as long as she does that, you can keep her safe. Safe as any teenage girl can be in this world._

Lorelai's secretary beamed at her as she passed the Starbucks cup to her boss. "Good morning, you very lucky girl!"

Lorelai frowned, feeling perplexed and slightly apprehensive. The last time Maude had that broad smile on a Monday morning, Nick Donahue from Accounting was caught with Alex Jones from Human Resources in the elevator after a raucous Christmas office party. Between the two of them, they wore one pair of heels, a Santa Claus hat, one lacy scrap of underwear and a sprig of mistletoe. "Nobody is lucky on a Monday morning, Maude."

_Especially not the Monday following that particularly disastrous weekend. _

"They are if they have the sexy Jason Stiles serenading them in front of everyone." Maude giggled.

Lorelai groaned, horrified at being the topic up for discussion at the Evian water cooler. "Maude, you weren't even at the party."

"But Margie from Stiles & Associates told Vincent in our mail room, who told Kelly and Kimberley in Finances and Kimberley phoned her mother, who chairs the Harriet Beecher Stowe Literary Auction …"

Lorelai closed her eyes in disbelief as Maude continued, listing a dizzying amount of texts, calls and Tweets made.

"… who told me," she finished, smiling broadly. "I thought there was something strange going on when those other gifts started showing up along with the silver boxes, you naughty thing."

Ah. Jason hadn't stopped his habit of sending a silver box, wrapped with a bow-tied Hermès scarf. Every workday brought along a new surprise – inevitably a charming, beautiful little gift that brightened her day. But since Lorelai had discussed the D-word with Christopher, he had also decided to send gifts to her office. After hearing Maude detail a grape vine more complicated than Chinese algebra, Lorelai realised that somebody must have told Christopher about the silver boxes. Christopher's gifts were profligate, extravagant statements – an assortment of floral bouquets that hardly fit through the door, chocolate-covered truffles that cost more than a Guatemalan sweatshop employee earned in a year, constructions of lace and ribbons masquerading as underwear. It was the kind of gifts a man thinks he should buy to get into a woman's good books. But Jason's gifts … Every gift was like a new sentence in an ongoing sentence, touching on memories they shared, ideas they discussed, laughs they had.

He had sent a necklace and chandelier-earrings to match the Tiffany bracelet that was amongst his first gifts. He had sent her a complete set of Murano mugs, one by one. All the mugs were delicately shaped, all different shades of pink and red and white with the petals of daisies and orchids and roses pressed between the thin layers of glass. Each mug was accompanied by a bag of rare, special coffee beans. Old Brown Java beans that are aged in the monsoon season. Tanzanian Peaberry beans from the bottom of Mount Kilimanjaro. Even a bag of Kopi Luwak beans, although the card expressed his discomfort with the harvesting process of that particular speciality. (She had to agree. It would have to be a day of dark desperation that would convince her to drink those particular beans). After Lorelai indulged her relief at the cancellation of the Founding Fathers Festival with her usual hyperbolic glee, he had sent her two silver boxes. One contained the box set of 21 Jump Street, the other an assortment of Red Vines, Oreos, Milk Duds, MalloMars, microwave popcorn and cookie dough. Enough candy to rot the innards and teeth of everyone in Connecticut. The card read:

"_It's a band, it's a gang, it's a floor wax. You've got to keep up with the popular culture, Hanson."_

_For a weekend of guilty pleasures, since you no longer need to attend the Founding Fathers Festival._

_Jason_

So when Lorelai saw the gifts on her desk this morning, she felt a flash of annoyance at the flamboyant bouquet of carnations and orchids and a deeper thrill at the silver box. She dumped the Lalique vase on Maude's desk, who wisely kept her mouth after seeing the gloomy look in Lorelai's eyes. Inside the silver box was a single ticket to a showing of Casablanca in the newly refurbished Art Deco theatre in downtown Hartford.

_Because there are no bad bits in Casablanca. See you at 8.30._

_Jason_

xxxxxxxxxx

"Richard."

Richard glanced up from his desk, astonished to see his son-in-law hovering at the door of his study with obvious discomfiture. "Christopher. Come in. How can I help you?"

Christopher sunk into one of the armchairs, fiddling with his collar. "It's about Lorelai," he said, awkwardly. "I think … well, I think the relationship is over."

Richard steepled his fingers together. "I see."

"Not from my side," Christopher hastened to assure him. "I don't think I could love anybody but Lorelai the way I love her. But … I don't think she feels the same way about me any more and I don't think that's likely to change."

"Why do you think she has lost interest in your marriage?"

"That damn Digger Stiles," Christopher growled. Unable to sit any longer, he started pacing Richard's study with restless feet. "If it wasn't for him …"

"If not for him, Lorelai would have found a different vent for her frustration."

Christopher looked at Richard, clearly surprised. "You think she's only frustrated?"

"Well," Richard said, "Lorelai is a very determined woman. I don't believe that she is entirely satisfied with the turn her life has taken. She is placed in the unenviable position of raising a teenager daughter largely on her own while meeting the demands of an intellectually demanding career. All without much support from the father of her child, I might add. It would place strain on any relationship, let alone one that was cemented due to an unfortunate mistake that was made some years ago."

"But … I have been travelling less. I have been home more," Christopher protested.

Richard inclined his head. "True. But I believe that Lorelai's frustrations run deeper than merely an absentee husband."

"Then what? What can I do to convince her to stay with me?"

"That is between Lorelai and yourself," Richard said firmly. He felt uneasy at the conversation he was having, not believing himself to be the best person to hear Christopher's confidences. Emily was much more suited to this type of discussion, he thought. All I know of Lorelai is the similarities between us. All I know of her thoughts and feelings is mere speculations. "Have you considered how Rory might feel about the upheaval in her parents' relationship?"

"Rory is almost all I think about, Richard," Christopher said, running a hand through his hair in a gesture that reminded Richard of Rory. "She has a pretty great relationship with Lore, which is cool. Kids need their mothers. But if Lore and I aren't together anymore, I won't be able to see her so much."

"Firstly, your studies and travels have limited your time with Rory since she was born. I think Rory will adjust to the idea of seeing you on a less daily basis," Richard calmly pointed out. "Secondly, Lorelai would not be so vindictive as to keep you from seeing Rory. If nothing else, she loves Rory enough to allow her time with her father."

"Do you think I should start looking for a good divorce lawyer, Richard?"

"If nothing else," Richard answered equably, "it never hurts to be prepared."

"Richard!" a shocked voice objected from the open window. Emily, who was trimming the azaleas growing from the study's window box, was glaring at Richard. "I cannot believe that you are telling Christopher to prepare for a divorce."

"Now, Emily, this was meant to be a private discussion."

"I'm your wife, Richard, you can have private discussions when I'm dead."

"Emily," Christopher said, his voice tinged with hopeless despair, "Richard might be right. I may not want to divorce Lorelai, but what I want may be entirely redundant at this stage."

"Nonsense," Emily retorted. "If you want to remain married to Lorelai, you are going to have to convince her that she wants it too. That girl never knows her own mind. You should be able to do so easily enough. No, no more defeatist talk of divorce lawyers. Faint heart never won fair lady, after all."

Rory, who was on her way to return a first edition of Cervantes to her grandfather's study, had overheard the last part of their calm discussion. Not enough to contextualise the situation, but enough to drive home how bad the relationship between her parents had become. That Dad should want relationship advice from Grandmother! She quietly ran back up the stairs and flopped down on her bed, staring at the ceiling with unseeing eyes.

_I thought they'd always be together. And they promised me they would! Hypocrites! I'm supposed to do everything they want, to listen what they say … Mom wants me to break off my relationship with Tristan because she doesn't like him. But does she love me enough to take my thoughts into account when it comes to her and Dad? Like hell she does._

Rory turned onto her side, clutching her pillow.

_I'm stuck at home on a Friday night while she's off God-knows-where, probably with the guy who serenaded her at that party last week. God, remind me to thank her for finding out about that from Madeleine. That wasn't embarrassing or anything. _

The seeds of rebellion continued to sprout.

_And I am supposed to do what I'm told, take my punishment like a good little girl, when Mom used to sneak out of this house all the time._

She sat up sudden, smiling grimly.

_You never should have told me all those ways out of here, Mother._

xxxxxxxxxx

Jason felt surprisingly light as he walked down the street to the Hartford theatre, fighting the urge to whistle.

_No need to behave like the lead from a musical, Stiles._

All the same, it was difficult to keep himself from bursting into spontaneous love song and seamlessly choreographed dancing with the rest of the people on the street. His relationship with Lorelai … well, it was good to have the cat out of the bag. No more secrecy. No more illicit trysts. No more sneaking around.

They weren't formally dating yet, either. But he knew she would come around. Knew she found it hard to resist his unyielding devotion, his little gifts that reminded her how well she knew him. Knew she welcomed the fact that he didn't pressure her into getting a divorce, didn't pressure her into staying the night, didn't pressure her into anything. If nothing else, Jason Stiles had a talent for closing a deal. And keeping his cool now, letting Lorelai lead for some part of this complicated dance, was going to be the best way of keeping her around.

A flash of a blue dress, looking like the one she wore at Emily's WWF fundraiser, caught his eye. He quickened his pace, wanting to catch up with her. And then paused. It was a blue dress, indeed the same shade and almost the same cut as the one Lorelai had worn. But it was a different woman inside the dress, a perky blonde with too-wide eyes and too-red lipstick.

And the man with his arm around her waist, his hand placed protectively on the curve of her back, was Christopher.

xxxxxxxxxx

"Whoa, you don't look so happy to see me," Lorelai said, peering at Jason with concern.

"Unless you are armed," Jason deadpanned, leaning over to kiss her cheek and tuck her hand into the crook of his arm, "I am always happy to see you. How was your day?"

He managed to listen as she recounted the highlights, his mind racing with a different set of thoughts all together.

_You could tell her. Should tell. Christopher being out with another woman will definitely tip the scales in your favour, Stiles._

He shook his head imperceptibly.

_You know you can't be the one to tell her that her husband is having dinner with another woman. She might not be in love with him anymore, but it'll still sting. And she'll shoot you for being the messenger. No. Far better that she hears it from someone else, someone impartial and unbiased. Then you can be the one to comfort her when it all goes to pieces._


	14. Shakespeare In Stars Hollow

**14 – Shakespeare in Stars Hollow**

"Have I told you how much I like the new Mary," Tristan whispered in Rory's ear as he nuzzled her neck. "I'm liking this transition from Virgin into Magdelene."

"You say that now, but wait until my dad catches me sneaking out the window to meet you one night," Rory replied. She had been sneaking out fairly regularly since that fateful Friday night two weeks ago, usually meeting Tristan to go to a club or a dive bar and using all the emergency exits her mother had helpfully highlighted for her many years ago. Rory yawned into her hand, fighting the urge to lay her head on the cafeteria table and drift off into sweet dreams. Last night was Thursday Tap Me Dry at her favourite dive bar and she had stayed out with Tristan until it was late enough to call it early. Sleep was nothing but a distant memory now and she was finding it increasingly difficult to concentrate on Paris's droning on and on. Who cares about their Shakespeare project? It was close enough to Christmas that even a toasted robot like Paris should be tempted to make a whirring sound and shut down for a weekend or two.

"So if you two can stop being nauseating for long enough," Paris snapped at Tristan and Rory, "can we finalise our rehearsal plan for tonight?"

Even Rory had to suppress a sigh at her friend's academic drive. "Sure, we couldn't have forgotten it since the last time we spoke about it," Tristan groaned, leaning his head against the wooden grain of the table.

Paris's eyes narrowed dangerously. "This project counts for half of our grade, Tristan, and I am not letting you and your Danny Zuko ways stop me from getting an A."

"I'm nothing like Danny Zuko," Tristan muttered drowsily.

"Yeah," Madeleine agreed, glancing up from her magazine. "Much more Kernicky."

"Oh, I can't believe that actor passed away," Louise said, carefully reapplying a pearly pink coating to her nails.

"I know!" Madeleine commiserated. "Gets me every time I want to watch Grease. Just like it's become impossible to watch Ten Things I Hate About You since Heath Ledger died."

"He made a fine Joker, though," Louise murmured. "Even with the creepy clown make-up …"

Paris slammed her fist onto the table, making the assorted ledgers and notebooks on the table jump in the air. Tristan sat up straight with a grimace. "Can we stop this trip down pop culture memory lane and get back to work, please?"

"That would imply that we were doing something productive to start with," Lane grumbled as she flicked through a catalogue from a nearby music store. "Oooh, pretty …"

"How's that being nice to people thing coming along, Paris?" Rory asked, staving off a typical Paris meltdown as she stretched sleepily in her chair.

Paris glowered. "Better than Obama's campaign for re-election," she snapped. "Look, are you all going to be at the quad tonight at five or should I just go tell Mister Medina to fail us all and save himself the pain of watching the crappiest final act in Romeo and Juliet since Baz Luhman vomited his hallucinations of Leo and Claire all over the silver screen?"

"We can't be in the quad tonight," Madeleine said distractedly, flipping through a different magazine. "I heard three other acts saying they are going to rehearse there."

"Who cares?" Rory yawned. "It's not like the final act of Romeo and Juliet will come as a surprise to anyone in the Western world."

"Our interpretation might," Paris pointed out.

"Hey, there's a dance slash yoga studio slash makeshift Town Hall in my town we can use for rehearsal," Lane offered. "It's roughly the same size as the quad, so we'll be able to get use to the correct spacing and stuff."

"Oh, that Miss Patty's place?" Rory asked. "We walked past it when that guy from the diner took us to your house. It looks like it could work."

"Well, with such a glowing recommendation, how could it not?" Paris muttered. "You had better all be in Lane's hick town at five sharp or forge your coroner's notes before I get my hands on you."

xxxxxxxxx

"I would've been perfectly capable of driving myself," Rory grumbled for the umpteenth time as Lorelai drove away from the Hartford house.

"I thought we could talk a bit. Do some of that mother-daughter-bonding we are so famous for," Lorelai responded peacefully, wondering when her daughter's mood will lift. She had been in a remarkably grumpy mood for the past two weeks. Ah, the joys of motherhood. "Promise I won't hang around and embarrass you. Who would want to see teenagers speak iambic pentamer and kill themselves anyway? So how is your relationship with Tristan?"

"How is your relationship with a man you are not married to?" Rory countered crossly.

"I like Jason's company. He is an attentive, funny, intelligent man," Lorelai answered candidly. "Honey, I know you are unsettled by the possible changes in the relationship between myself and your dad. But you also know that, no matter what the relationship between Chris and me, the relationship between you and your parents will always remain the same."

Rory didn't reply and pointedly stared out of the window of Lorelai's Merc.

"We both love you very much, sweets. You don't have to worry that things will turn into some custodial tug-of-war that will put you in the middle of things."

"Stop pretending like you care about my feelings," Rory said bitterly, wiping at the wetness on her cheek. "If you did, you wouldn't be running around with Jason Stiles."

"Honey, I …"

"You expect me to stop seeing Tristan because you dislike him, but you don't return that same courtesy to me. You want us to have this cool mother-daughter-best-friends-vibe, but only when it suits you. When I have an opinion that doesn't fit with what you want, you just ignore it and shove it aside. Shove me aside."

Lorelai pulled the car over and stared at Rory in worried disbelief. "Is that how you've been feeling, Rory?"

"No, I'm just making it up so that we can have something to talk about on the way to Stars Hollow. You know, getting myself in touch with my thespian side," Rory retorted sharply, wishing that she could stop crying.

Lorelai didn't rise to the angry bait. "Look, I'm sorry you feel that way. I talked to you about your relationship with Tristan the way I would with any of my friends."

"If you had any," Rory muttered.

"That's a snotty thing to say," Lorelai calmly replied.

"It's true, though. You work so hard that you never see anyone aside from the stupid social stuff Grandmother makes you go to."

Lorelai exhaled, biting her lip. "I have had a little difficulty relating to my peers since I've gotten pregnant with you. While my high school friends were worrying about prom and senior picture day, I was worrying about epidurals versus endorphins and how many cups of coffee I could drink while breastfeeding. While my classmates at Yale were worrying what sorority to join and who to take to the big Harvard-Yale game, I was worrying about a strange rash on my baby's bottom and whether or not she would ever step on wet grass voluntarily. And now, when my colleagues my age talk about their children, they tend to discuss kids who are just going to school. Not kids who are already thinking about college and classes and majors."

"I'm sorry I mucked up your socialisation techniques," Rory spat out.

"You didn't, honey. I love you," Lorelai said, reaching out to touch Rory's shoulder affectionately. "I am just trying to explain to you why talking with people my own age has always been a little more difficult for me, since we have so much less in common."

Rory wiped her nose on a tissue and continued to stare out the window.

"Look, you are intelligent enough to decide about your relationships yourself. I respect that. I just wanted you to realise that many things about your relationship with Tristan worries me. I would have voiced my concern with any of my friends, real or imaginary, just like you would have done that with Paris or Lane or Louise or Madeleine."

Rory sniffed, unwilling to accept the truth in her mother's words.

"I also don't want you to make the wrong decisions when it comes to boys. I want to keep you safe, preferably locked away in a tower when your only male contact will consist of the elderly butler we hire to keep you supplied with chilli fries and coffee. But since I can't do that, I have to rely on your instincts and your smarts to keep you safe. If you think that Tristan is the guy for you, go for it. If you think that Tristan is a spoilt, selfish prep school boy who considers nothing but his own entertainment, leave him. Both ways, it is your choice and it is up to you to make it."

"Thanks, Mom," Rory mumbled, guilt starting to gnaw at her.

"All I ask," Lorelai said, "is that you grant me the same courtesy in return. I know things between me and your dad is a bit messy at the moment and I can understand that it's not easy for you to live with. But, Rory, you remember that rush you had when you first fell in love with Tristan? How you used to watch One Tree Hill, even though you hated the sports-centred storylines, just because the one blond guy on the show reminded you of Tristan?"

Rory nodded.

"I feel the same about Jason," Lorelai admitted. "It's been a while since anything in my life felt quite so … right. I'm not expecting you to be ecstatic about something that can threaten your own family life, but can you try to understand how crazily in love I am right now and can you try to be happy for me?"

"Crazy is about right," Rory said, smiling at her mother for the first time in two weeks. "I don't want you and Dad to get a divorce, but when you put it like that …"

"I can be pretty convincing, huh."

Rory reached across to hug her mother tightly, the action saying all she could not. "And I think Paris is going to turn purple if we don't get to Stars Hollow on time."

"Look at it this way," Lorelai said, steering the Merc into the traffic, "if we act quickly enough, we'll finally be able to see if you can fry an egg on Paris's head when she gets angry."

xxxxxxxxxx

The bell above the door chimed as Lorelai walked into the diner. It was the same sea green interior she remembered, the same heavenly smell of sugar and grease and caffeine. She wondered where the ruggedly handsome man with the baseball cap was.

_And why the baseball cap, anyway? Unless there's some serious leaks or a sunroof I don't know about, who wears a baseball cap while working in a kitchen? Maybe it's a more masculine type of hairnet … is this the kind of thing you can ask someone? Rory was right. My social skills suck._

"Hi, can I take your order?" A cheerful voice interrupted her. It belonged to a woman with caramel-coloured hair, notepad and pen poised, who looked vaguely familiar.

"Uh … coffee, please," Lorelai said, trying to place the woman. "This is not supposed to be a cheesy pick-up line, but have we perhaps met somewhere before?"

The woman smiled. "You were in here a few weeks ago with your daughter. I just ran out for meat that Caesar forgot to order. Again. I dyed my hair back to its original colour since."

"Ah," Lorelai remembered. "Why? The black suited you."

"Well, I just dyed it for a job I was doing."

"Undercover CIA agent? FBI covert ops? DEA sting?"

"Nothing quite so glamorous or dangerous in Stars Hollow. I was doing a photo-story on the recent tsunami in Japan, trying to illustrate how everyday families have been affected. And, even though the Japanese are a wonderfully civilised nation, the blonde hair still throws them enough to stop them from confiding in you fully. Which is quite a drawback for a photo-journalist, as I'm sure you can see."

Lorelai nodded, still hearing the echo of Rory's accusation that she has no friends. An accusation that stung, that hurt, that rang with truth. "Photo-journalist, huh? Sounds even more fun than a FBI sting."

"And it can be slightly more dangerous," the woman replied. "My name is Rachel, by the way. Welcome to Stars Hollow."

"I'm Lorelai. Nice to meet you. What is a photo-journalist doing pouring coffee in a diner in Connecticut? Am I going to be part of your next photo-story?"

Rachel smiled. "I'm working freelance, chasing down the stories I'm interested in and want to share with the world. Quiet times like these, I come back home to help Luke with the diner."

"Oh, is Luke …" Lorelai paused, not quite sure how to ask.

"He's my boyfriend," Rachel explained. "But don't tell him that or he might head for the hills."

The bell chimed again as a bearded man in a grey cardigan came in.

"Really nice to meet you, Lorelai," Rachel said. "Hope we see you and your daughter again."

"Keep giving me coffee and you'll never get rid of me," Lorelai smiled.

xxxxxxxxxx

"Paris, it's already three minutes and four seconds past five and we have not yet started rehearsing," Tristan said, studying his Taghuer with exaggerated concern. "My, my, my. The world will be coming to an end soon, then."

Paris, who was pacing up and down in front of the wooden building, shot him a steely glare. "The town has to have some stupid meeting about ticks or fleas or something and we can't get started until they are done. So shut up, Tristan."

"Yeah, shut up, Tristan," Rory softly repeated, thrusting her hands into her Dior jacket to keep them warm. She felt raw after her conversation with Lorelai, feeling too much information and emotion sloshing about inside her. She needed to think, to process, to make a few pro-con lists. What she didn't need was for Tristan to embody every accusation of selfishness, thoughtlessness and laziness that anyone has ever levied against him. She ignored Madeleine's shocked looks, Lane's expression of concern and Louise's smirk and cast a critical eye around town. "I'm going to go buy a soda."

"I need cigarettes," Tristan said, following her. "You mind telling me what's going on here, Mary?"

"I'm tired and thirsty and in need of rehydration," Rory replied, keeping her eyes on her shoes. "No mystery. No suspense. No need to call the National Inquirer."

Tristan nodded, not quite believing her and not willing to push the issue any further. "Can you imagine living in a dead-end, deadbeat place like this?" he asked instead. "I would probably climb onto the church tower with an assault rifle and take out everybody I can see before turning the gun on myself."

"Charming," Rory muttered as they walked into Doose's Market. She went over to the fridge and grabbed a soda, neither knowing nor caring what brand it was.

"I mean, can you imagine having to work in a place like this, stocking beans and shelling peas just to get enough shiny pennies to go to community college? After which you'll get a shiny diploma, come back here and be in charge of the people stocking the beans and shelling the peas." Tristan glanced around him disparagingly. A floppy-haired boy, who was stocking cans of cranberries, looked up at the sound of Tristan's voice. A frown wrinkled across his face. "Can I help you?" he asked, calmly enough.

"Yes, you can," Tristan responded, picking up two bags of flour. "In your professional opinion, which of these would make my cakes fluffier?"

"Let's go, Tristan," Rory muttered, grabbing his arm. Tristan dropped one of the bags of flour on the floor, glanced at the floppy-haired boy maliciously and said, "Oops. Butterfingers."

"Come on, Tristan. Stop being such a jerk!" Rory snapped.

Tristan threw a wad of twenties onto the burst bag of flour. "I'm not being a jerk. I paid for the flour and the first semester of community college."

"I suggest you get him out of here before he wants to pay for the textbooks," the floppy-haired boy told Rory, his even voice masking an angry expression.

"Will do," Rory said, dragging Tristan out of the market and onto the sidewalk. "What the hell is wrong with you, Tristan?"

Tristan shrugged. "I don't take kindly to boredom. Let's go, Rory. Woodbury has a wonderfully scruffy bar just off the intestate."

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because we are supposed to rehearse our scene for the play, Tristan. Because my mother is sitting in that diner and while Paris might not miss us, Lorelai sure will. Because I can't go running off to play with you every time you snap your fingers. Because I'm not Dive Bar Barbie."

Tristan whistled through his teeth and started walking off. "Call me when you're not so PMS'd," he called over his shoulder, his words forming white frost in the evening air.

"Nice guy. Friend of yours?"

Rory turned and saw that the floppy-haired boy had followed her out of the store. He held out a can of soda.

"You left your drink in the store," he said mildly. "You must be Lane's friend, Rory."

"Yeah," Rory mumbled, taking the drink. "How did you know?"

The boy smiled. "Well, Lane talks about her school sometimes. And after you crashed the Civil War re-enactment, Taylor wanted the town council's permission to erect a barrier right around Stars Hollow to prevent the wrong element from coming to town."

"Oh." Rory felt the need to reply with a witty quip, but the talk with Lorelai and the confrontation with Tristan had left her drained, tired, flat. The floppy-haired boy seemed to understand without being told, as he simply smiled and said, "Hope to see you around Stars Hollow again, Rory. Enjoy your evening."

xxxxxxxxxx

The bell above the door chimed again. Lorelai and Rachel had been keeping each other company, since most of the town were attending the meeting at Miss Patty's, and Lorelai had honestly enjoyed the other woman's company. Rachel described her travels and photo-stories, from the Japanese families affected by the tsunami to Sudanese families affected by famine and Congolese child soldiers affected by the war. Lorelai had listened, learned, tried to develop some of the social skills Rory said she lacked.

"Hi, Rachel. Can I have a glass of milk, please? Mother says I am lactose intolerant. I would like to prove her wrong."

"Sure thing, Kirk," Rachel said, getting up to pour Kirk's milk.

Lorelai's eyes narrowed as she glared at the figure sitting at the counter. "You!" she hissed.

Kirk looked surprised. "Do I know you from …" His voice trailed off as he remembered exactly where he knew Lorelai from and he turned towards the kitchen. "Rachel, can I get the milk to go please?"

Lorelai's chair scraped ominously against the tiles as she got up. "You cut out all the electricity connections in my house! Just as the contractors managed to fix the flooding, you come along and snippity snip goes all my wires!"

"You can leave the lid," Kirk called to Rachel. "And it doesn't have to be a big glass of milk either."

"I was two, maybe three, short weeks away from moving out of my parents' house again. Away from the constant fashion critiques and the commentary on how late I work and how much coffee I drink. Away from all that noise, into my own beautiful house," Lorelai said, walking slowly towards Kirk. "And then you come along … "

"They said it would be easy! I was just supposed to stand in for my brother for one day, otherwise he would've lost his pay! I took a course at the Learning Annex and everything! They never said that the little green wire should be attached to everything else!" Kirk gabbled. "I thought I was doing you a favour!"

"How would you like it if I disconnected your little green wire, Kirk?"

"I don't understand your threat, but I do feel comfortable in saying that I wouldn't like that at all." Kirk grabbed the plastic cup that Rachel put down on the counter and sprinted towards the door. "I am very sorry. Hope your experience with me doesn't reflect badly on Joe's establishment! Please come again with all your construction and re-wiring needs!"

"What on earth did you do to him?" Rachel chuckled, wiping down the counter.

Lorelai sighed and explained the story to Rachel.

"Poor Kirk," Rachel said affectionately.

"No! Poor Lorelai, not poor Kirk!"

"He is the youngest of thirteen kids. Never seemed to quite fit in around here and yet he doesn't want to leave. Not even to go to college. Now he just works an endless string of demeaning, low-paying jobs. Still lives with his mother. Nasty old shrew who doesn't appreciate all he does for her."

"Ah, now," Lorelai said, slinking back to her table, "you just make me feel bad for the guy who postponed my Free Willy moment with a few weeks."

"You're going to need much wider hips if you want to have a completely realistic Free Willy moment," Rachel pointed out with a grin. "How about some donuts with your coffee?"

"How about you adopt me and I call you Mommy?" Lorelai laughed.


	15. Who Could Not Be Together

**15 – Who Could Not Be Together And Who Would Not Be Apart**

_A/N: Thanks for all the reviews and the feedback! I especially appreciate those of you who take the time to leave a comment regularly. I apologise if the shipping in this part of the story starts to annoy some of you; I feel like it fits the story best at this stage. Let me know what you think! "All That You Have Is Your Soul" written and performed by the incomparable Tracy Chapman._

xxxxxxxxxx

"So how did your rehearsal go?" Lorelai asked as the silver Merc drove out of Stars Hollow. "I mean, apart from Louise acting like the priest in a Lady Gaga video and Madeleine getting Romeo confused with Juliet."

Rory muttered something unintelligible as she pressed her head against the cool window. Lorelai glanced at her with concern, wondering if the goodwill of their earlier conversation had dissipated. "You okay, sweets?"

"Uh-huh."

"Resting your voice for your big suicide on Sunday?"

"I had a tiff with Tristan," Rory answered reluctantly, shaking her hair like a curtain across her face.

"A tiff?"

"Uh-huh."

"On a scale of one to ten, with one being the Titanic and ten being World War Two, how bad was it?"

Rory sighed. "About as bad as the day that Grandmother found your sock drawer filled with Tootsie rolls."

"Fifteen," Lorelai whistled through her teeth. "That ís bad."

"Uh-huh."

"More like a row than a tiff."

"I s'pose."

"Almost an argument."

"Perhaps."

"Could even call it a fight."

"If one was so inclined."

Lorelai glanced at her pale-faced daughter again. "You want to talk about it?"

"Is it too late to say no?"

"No."

"Good."

"I went to that diner you and I had breakfast at last time," Lorelai volunteered, driving onto the intestate. "Coffee was as good as I imagined it. If the diner wasn't all the way out in Stars Hollow, I can see you and me going there for breakfast as a regular thing."

"Uh-huh."

"Oh, the waitress who works there is a freelance photo-journalist. Thought you might find it interesting to talk to her about her travels and experiences, since you were talking about becoming a journalist not so long ago. I mean, she's not Christiane Amanpour, but she has some amazing stories. And while you soak up some of those amazing stories, Mommy can soak up some of that amazing coffee. I believe that is commonly known as a win-win situation," Lorelai grinned as she steered into Hartford. "So what do you say, kid? Shall we visit Stars Hollow again soon?"

Rory thought of the floppy-haired boy from the market. Despite the hideous green apron, he was cute in a Farmer John kind of a way and friendly. "Yeah, maybe."

Lorelai tried to think of another safe topic. "You want to go shopping tomorrow morning? Maybe get a new dress for you grandmother's soiree tomorrow night?"

"No, I have enough dresses."

"There is no such thing as enough when it comes to clothes, Rory," Lorelai teased. When Rory simply muttered a sighing reply, the Merc fell quiet as they drove through Hartford. Rory stared at the passing lights, shops and restaurants without seeing much until a flash of a familiar face caught her eye.

"Hey, Mom," she said, bolting up straight, "isn't Dad supposed to be in Boston?"

"As far as I know. Why?" Lorelai asked as she braked at a red traffic light.

"If he's supposed to be in Boston," Rory said, pointing to a couple at a sidewalk café, "what is he doing in Hartford having dinner with some blonde woman?"

The traffic light turned green as the Lorelais stared at Christopher.

"That is a very good question," Lorelai said, not hearing the annoyed honking behind her.

xxxxxxxxxx

Lorelai applied her make-up on autopilot, subconsciously thanking the finely honed cosmetological skills which stopped her from putting lipstick on her eyelids and mascara around her mouth. She hardly noticed her reflection in the ornate mirror, the reflection of the white Vera Wang dress cut along a Grecian pattern that made her look elegant and ethereal. Rory paused at her mother's bedroom door, worrying about the silent figure in front of the mirror. "Mom, can I borrow those rose-coloured shoes of yours with the heel and the satiny bows?"

"Sure, kid."

Rory glanced surreptitiously at her mother as she went through the shoe carousels. "You hear from Dad?" she asked, trying too hard to sound relaxed.

"No." Christopher hadn't responded to her increasingly agitated BBMs or her e-mails. "I'm sure there's a logical reason for why he was in Hartford last night when he told us he would be in Boston."

"Yeah, it's called adultery," Rory shot back.

_Adultery. Yeah, that's what we should call my relationship with Jason, too. So the high road really isn't an option for me. Except … I had the courtesy of telling Chris that I want to divorce him, of telling him that I don't love him anymore. Does that make the high road accessible? And if he is seeing some blonde on the side, if he is getting in touch with his inner Tiger Woods, it could actually be a good thing. It's good that he won't be sitting in a dark room, drinking tequila like its water, cradling a framed photograph of our wedding and humming the words to 'You Can't Always Get What You Want'. It's good that he's moving on. Except … did it have to be so soon? Did our relationship, our marriage, ultimately mean that little to him that he could flit from me to another woman like a drunk bee between flowers? Did he really just marry me because I was pregnant, all his declarations of undying adolescent love be damned? _

With all the competing thoughts racing through her head, Lorelai didn't have a reply at hand.

"You look gorgeous," Lorelai said instead, appraising Rory in her dusty pink Chanel cocktail dress. She did look gorgeous, despite the dark lines under her eyes that revealed how little she had slept the past few weeks. Lorelai felt another tug at her heart, wondering at the effect of her impending divorce on her beloved daughter. "Rory …"

"Mom," Rory said, adjusting the Jimmy Choos with the satiny bows, "I know we have had our differences in the very recent past, but I'm with you on this one. If you want to divorce Dad, then you have my full support. If you want to sell our house after the contractors are done with it, I will help you find a good agent. And if you want to move to Japan and start an all-girl band, I will get out the tour guides and help you learn the Japanese for 'Hello, Cleveland!'."

Lorelai pulled her daughter into a tight hug. "No making Mommy cry when she is wearing mascara," she said hoarsely.

"And apparently I should help you find the waterproof mascara," Rory smiled, kissing her mother's cheek.

"Now, let's go eat some cheese puffs and make boring small talk before your grandmother's head explodes all over the entrees."

"Yeah, I think the catering staff has more than enough on their plates."

The Lorelais linked arms and descended into the fray. Lorelai felt her spirits, which had lifted with Rory's assertion of support, slam back into her Louboutins. "Close your eyes and think of Moët, darling," she muttered to herself, taking the first proffered glass without knowing or tasting what it contained. The sting in her throat did little to lift the dark cloud as she drifted between clumps of faceless people.

"Lore," a well-known voice whispered in her ear, a hand touching her elbow. She turned and saw Christopher, dressed in his best Tom Ford tuxedo and wearing a familiar expression.

"That's the way you looked when you told Straub and Francine that I'm pregnant," she said, biting her lip.

Christopher looked at his shoes, at her shoes, at the shoes of the people around them. "Let's go talk on the patio."

Lorelai grabbed another glass, feeling that she'll need the inner fortitude, as they moved out onto the patio. The music, the laughter, the clink of silverware and crystal was slightly muted here, creating the illusion of privacy. Lorelai pushed the memory of the previous party she had spent on the patio to the back of her mind, trying to focus on Christopher's disconsolate face. "Lore, when you told me that you have feelings for Digger Stiles, it nearly broke my heart. In fact, it did break my heart," Christopher started, fiddling with his tie. Lorelai fought the impulse to help him straighten it and remained where she was. "But I … appreciated that you could be honest with me. No matter what has happened between us, we could always be honest with each other and … I …"

"Does this stuttering speech have something to do with the perky blonde you were having dinner with last night when you should have been with bearded businessmen in Boston?" Lorelai asked evenly.

Christopher swallowed and stared at her in shock.

"Huh. From your guilty expression, I'm guessing it does."

Christopher nodded unwillingly.

"Are you in love with her?"

Christopher shook his head slowly.

"Do you owe her money?"

"Future maintenance," Christopher said, his mouth dry despite his earlier drinks.

"Maintenance? As in …"

"Child support."

Lorelai stared at Christopher. The laughter from inside the Hartford house sounded shrill, grotesque, obscene. A laugh track for a nightmare.

"Her name is Sherry, Sherry Tinsdale. I met her about four months ago when I was in Paris, around the time that you went to that TIME Magazine party. I was missing you so much that night, Lore, so I got drunk and … We didn't plan for it or anything, but it happened and … and … "

"And you impregnated her."

Again, Christopher nodded unwillingly.

"Christopher, Lorelai, what on earth are you two doing out here? It's freezing cold, come back inside and have a martini," Emily chirruped from the patio door. Neither Lorelai nor Christopher acknowledged her presence and it dawned on the matriarch that their pale, shaken faces may not be due to the cold. "What is going on here?"

"I am divorcing Christopher," Lorelai said, her lips hardly moving, her eyes not leaving Christopher's face.

"What?" Emily said, walking out onto the patio.

"I am divorcing Christopher," Lorelai repeated, knowing that the hurt look on Christopher's face reflected her own image of shock and sorrow.

Emily tutted. "Don't be silly, Lorelai, your asinine infatuation with Digger Stiles will soon pass."

"Perhaps. But even if it does, Christopher will still be having a baby with another woman," Lorelai said.

"I'm sure there is a misunderstanding somewhere," Emily said briskly. "Now …"

"There's no misunderstanding, Emily," Christopher softly admitted. "Sherry is sure that I am the father."

"Well," Emily said, strangely quiet for a moment. "Even so, an extramarital child is no reason for abandoning a marriage. Lorelai, you should have more determination. Men make mistakes sometimes, you know."

"A mistake?" Lorelai echoed, her voice suddenly fierce. "A mistake is wearing black shoes with a brown suit. A mistake is forgetting your mother's birthday or misspelling her name on the card. Getting naked and having sex with a woman who is not your wife is not a mistake, mother, it is an indication that the marriage is over."

Lorelai turned to walk inside.

"Where are you going?" Emily asked sharply.

"Inside," Lorelai said over her shoulder as she walked past the library. "I am going upstairs to shower, change and pack. I'll be out of your hair by the morning."

"Don't be ridiculous, Lorelai," Emily snapped. "You and Christopher have to talk this out. Now …"

"Mom, what's going on?" Rory asked, her face blanched, as she came out of the library with Richard.

"Honey, it looks like it's time to get the listings and the classifieds," Lorelai said softly, reaching for her daughter's hand.

"Mom …" Rory began.

"Lore …" Christopher pleaded.

"Emily …" Richard inquired.

"Lorelai?" Jason's voice cut through the babble and five faces turned to the newcomer. Jason took in the array of anger, hurt, shock and pain and mentally kicked himself for intruding on what was clearly a private conversation.

_Buck up, Stiles. You want this girl, so you get this family and all the associated drama._

"Jason," Lorelai breathed. The sound of her voice, the mixture of relief and joy, broke the remainder of Christopher's self-restraint. He bellowed angrily and leapt toward the man who had ruined his marriage. Jason ducked dexterously and Christopher punched through the library door, yelping with pain as the wood splintered and cut through his fist.

"Christopher!"

"Dad!"

"I think it is about time that both of you leave," Richard said, his voice cracking like a bolt of thunder. "I will arrange for a driver if you are not able to drive, Christopher."

"You are taking his side over mine?" Christopher cried out, not noticing the blood that ran down his arm and dripped onto the Persian carpet. "He … I … This is …"

"This is neither the time nor the place to discuss your relationship with my daughter nor your relationship with Sherry Tinsdale," Richard decreed.

Lorelai's eyes flashed onto Richard's face. "You know about Sherry, Dad?" she asked quietly.

"Who is Sherry?" Jason and Rory asked in unison.

Richard nodded. "Christopher told your mother a few days ago and she told me. She also told me that you knew."

"Knew what?" Rory asked, her voice pitching high.

"If it makes you feel any better, I am as lost as you are," Jason told Rory.

"That is not quite as much help as you might think, Scooper."

"You knew, Mother?" Lorelai asked, glaring at Emily. With the flush of anger in her cheeks and the fury in her voices, she looked and sounded like a nightmarish version of Nemesis, the goddess of vengeance. "You knew that my husband was having a baby with another woman and you didn't see fit to tell me?"

Emily shrugged, avoiding Lorelai's furious eyes and Rory's expression of hurt disbelief. "I just knew you would respond with your usual melodramatics. I told you, there is a misunderstanding somewhere."

Lorelai turned to Jason. "You still have that amazing guest bedroom?" she asked.

"With enough space for you, your daughter and your shoes," Jason confirmed.

"Good. Rory, you are welcome to stay here if you want, but I … can't," Lorelai said, squeezing Rory's hand. "If you want to stay …"

"Lore, I don't want for any of this to happen," Christopher interrupted her imploringly, wanting to take her in his arms and kiss away the steely anger in her eyes. "You know I didn't want for any of this to happen."

"Split happens, Christopher." Lorelai barely glanced at him before she turned and walked away. As she did, words and the melody of a song she had long forgotten came back to haunt her.

_I was a pretty young girl once. I had dreams. I had high hopes. Married a man, he stole my heart away. Gave his love, but what a high price I paid. _

She walked into the bedroom she shared with Christopher, the bedroom they lived in as newlyweds who still enjoyed the thrill of playing house. He was so considerate, rubbing her swollen feet and fetching every pregnancy craving with the sweetness of a cocker spaniel. She could remember their blissful imaginings, wondering what their child would be like. The argument over whether or not they wanted to know the baby's gender. The mystery of that first sonogram, the feel of her hand in his, the feeling that he would always be there to take care of her and their child.

_Why was I such a young fool? Thought I'd make history. Making babies was the best I could do. _

She hardly felt the hot tears on her face. Why did have dreams have to die like this? Why did love end in adultery, lies and deceit?

_Thought I'd made something that could be mine forever. Found out the hard way one can't possess another._

She began gathering clothes from the walk-in closet, dropping armfuls of designer labels and couture cloth onto the bedspread.

"Lorelai?" Jason said softly from the doorway. He didn't need to voice the question that asked itself in all the lines on his face.

"No, I'm not fine," Lorelai replied, struggling with a stuck zipper on her favourite Vutton suitcase. She drew a deep, shaky breath before wiping at the tears on her face. "I'm a mess. You don't need to be here for this."

Jason put his highball glass down on the vanity and walked over to her, folding her into his arms and dabbing at her wet face with his handkerchief. "I wouldn't want to be anywhere else."

_Here I am, I'm waiting for a better day. A second chance, a little luck to come my way. _

"Thank you."

"Always."

_A hope to dream, a hope that I can sleep again and wake in the world with a clear conscience and clean hands. _


	16. Every Evening In Your Eyes

**16 – A Special Star Every Evening In Your Eyes**

"My only love sprung from my only hate!" a teenager declaimed in a strident falsetto, wobbling on the ill-fitting stiletto's he wore. "Too early seen unknown, and known too late! Prodigious birth of love it is to me, that I must love a loathed enemy."

Lorelai suppressed a sigh as the play continued.

_Did it have to be Romeo and Juliet, with all the talk of unsuitable marriages and starstruck lovers? Couldn't the teacher have picked a different play, something with guns and explosives in which everyone except the hero dies and nobody swoons about love in all its manifestations? Seriously, why couldn't Max have picked The Godfather or Waiting for Godot or something heavily political? Why couldn't this stupid play be produced at a time when my love life was less messy and I didn't have to stand and watch teenagers prattle of emotions they know nothing about? What did I do to deserve such horrible karma? I swear, the things we do for our kids … _

"Do you think it's possible that the ghost of Shakespeare could come back and haunt me for this production?"

Lorelai glanced at the attractive man who approached her, trying to summon a smile for Rory's favourite teacher. She had been good friends with Max Medina since Rory enrolled in Chilton and, whenever she saw him, felt a little twitch of regret that she saw him so little. Yet she knew that Max, with his gentle sense of humour and kind heart, would not adjust well to the bickering, competitive, backstabbing social life she knew. "You'll have to ask John Edwards to be sure," Lorelai replied, "but I'll hide the Marcel Proust just to be safe."

"Next year, I am downplaying the importance of originality in deciding on a suitable interpretation," Max declared, gesturing at the bizarre pantomime played out on stage. "I will never get this image of Juliet as a gangly teenage boy with whorish make-up and a yellow tutu out of my head. And I feel sure that he would only have found oversized stiletto heels in a store catering exclusively for drag queens without an iota of taste, which creates all sorts of unfavourable images."

Lorelai felt a genuine smile touching the corners of her mouth. "Are you allowed to say 'whorish' at Chilton? Isn't the headmaster going to jump out at us and lecture us in Latin on the importance of propriety?"

"If I'm allowed to teach the seniors about Henry James, I am allowed to say 'whorish'," Max decided, grinning at Lorelai. His eyes were soft as he covertly scrutinized her, wondering at the tired joylessness in her voice and the flat smile that didn't light her face. "How have you been, Lorelai?"

"_Now old desire doth in his death-bed lie and young affection gapes to be his heir," a mock Georgian choir chanted solemnly. "That fair for which love groaned for and would die, with tender Juliet matched, is now not fair."_

Lorelai shrugged, pretending at a nonchalance she did not feel. "I've been better, but I've also been worse."

"The Great Coffee Bean Shortage of 2009 immediately comes to mind," Max teased.

"As does the minor aneurysm that convinced me that taking a yoga class would be a good idea."

"_He may not have access to breathe such vows as lovers use to swear," the choir continued. _

"Rory has seemed a little distracted in class lately," Max noted casually. "Anything I can help with?"

Lorelai looked at Max, studying his open, friendly face, feeling the warmth radiating from his smile and knew what he was asking about. The avidly curious looks on the Chilton parents' faces, the giggles and the averted eyes, had already told her that the gossip about her showdown with Christopher had spread. Probably with quite a few bits and pieces added to it, as though the scandal itself wasn't salacious enough. "You are a good friend, Max. We really should see each other more often," Lorelai said, simply and honestly. "Rory's been having some difficulty, dealing with the situation at home."

"_But passion lends them power, time meets," the choir concluded, each student blowing out his candle in turn and leaving the stage in utter darkness, "tempering extremities with extreme sweet."_

"Situation at home?"

"I am divorcing from her father," Lorelai explained, not expecting the surge of relief that swelled through her veins. After the catastrophic catalyst of the previous night, it felt immensely right to admit that her marriage with Christopher was over. Finally, irrevocably, painfully, over. To admit that Shakespeare was actually right, that teenagers are indeed driven to self-destruction when their first love ends in misery and despair. Or pregnancy, as had happened with her. "He is having a baby with another woman and I am … well, I am actually in love with another man."

"Then divorce sounds like a practical and pragmatic, if not pleasant, solution," Max said, his voice as free of judgment and contempt as always. "I am sure Emily and Richard are taking it well."

Lorelai bit back the laughter that bubbled in her throat. Max knew her parents, knew that they regarded divorce in the same light as homosexual Republicans and atheists. "Oh, very well," she chuckled. "I'm sure they've already given up my space in the family crypt to Aunt Cecily."

"And the other man? Is he worthy of our great Lorelai?"

"Is anyone?" Lorelai smiled coyly, but the thought of Jason brought a light to her eyes that Max could not overlook. It was the same wide-eyed smile he saw on the faces of his students around Valentine's Day, the same ache of joy that is always felt at the start of a new relationship.

"_This bud of love, by summer's ripening breath, may prove a beauteous flower when next we meet."_

"Well, is he at least as handsome as I am?" Max preened.

"Is anyone?" Lorelai laughed at his silly behaviour, and then gestured to the loin-clothed caveman who was clumsily swinging a cardboard club on the makeshift stage. "Hey, shouldn't you be paying more attention to this experimental, existential drama?"

"I've never really liked this particular play," Max admitted, looking at his students presenting the balcony scene against a Neantherdal backdrop. He assumed that they conveyed the idea that love had been part of the primordial ooze, had formed the strongest part of the human heart. Fair enough interpretation. "Leaving aside the suicide aspect, which is depressing in itself, the characters show shockingly little fidelity in their devotion. We meet Romeo when he is pining for the fair Rosaline, but are expected to accept that he loves Juliet from the moment he sees her? That reminds me too much of the swaggering prep school boys I have to teach to endear him to me. And that scene at the Capulets' party … well, that's just proof positive that teenagers should not party when alcohol is freely available."

"Okay," Lorelai grinned, "the Bard is definitely coming back to haunt you."

"Ah, but the Bard himself wrote that the love of young men lies in their eyes and not in their hearts," Max pointed out with that little self-deprecating smile that Lorelai loved. "But, to prevent the Bard from taking out his ghastly ghostly temper on my Proust, I'll go so far as to admit that there is something comforting and noble about the idea of love that outlasts all obstacles."

"Like the Duracell bunny on Survivor," Lorelai nodded sagely.

"Exactly."

They watched the play unfold in companionable silence, the painful parallels between her life and the destructive aspects of the storyline made bearable by Max's steadying presence. It had been an upside down kind of a day, Lorelai thought, disconcerting to wake up in Jason's apartment with the barest essentials of her life boxed and bagged around her. Rory had neither stayed with her grandparents nor moved out with Lorelai; she had found the idea of living with her married mother's boyfriend too much like auditioning for The Jerry Springer Show and had instead chosen door number three – Paris. Who rose to the occasion with remarkable tact, dispatching her chauffeur and bullying the maids into freshening up the Gellars' guest room for Rory. When Lorelai had phoned Rory that morning, tentatively suggesting a breakfast in Stars Hollow, Rory had gently rebuffed her and said that they needed to work on the play. As her daughter came onto the stage, dressed in an unfamiliar blue dress with a conical head-dress, Lorelai felt sure that her wraithlike appearance had little to do with the stage make-up and much to do with love.

_All the different types of love we experience, all of them more extreme and excessive than anything Shakespeare could have captured. Nothing that would drive you to suicide when it left, but that would leave you stronger and older, if not wiser, at the memory. The love between friends, unconditional and understanding. The love between teenagers, believing their passion to be the best, the first, the most intense. The ardent love shared by aged lovers, the warmth and compassion that can build the bedrock for a new life. The love between mothers and daughters, complicated and absolute, lasting long after the umbilical cord has been severed. _

"Hey," Lorelai whispered as Paris began portraying a rather brusque Romeo, "wasn't Tristan supposed to be Romeo?"

"After the pantomime and the Seven Brides For Seven Brothers-inspired wedding scene, a little lesbian action seems rather tame," Max replied with a soft chortle.

Lorelai swatted his arm with her Birkin purse. "No lesbian action is tame if it stars my daughter, you fiend."

"Actually, I heard tell that Tristan's father has pulled him from Chilton. Planning to enrol his son in a military school in North Carolina," Max clarified. "Paris did a lovely impression of the Little Engine That Could with all the steam pouring from her ears when she heard the news."

Lorelai looked at her daughter's pale face with grave concern. "Do you think Rory knows?"

Max nodded. "She was having a rather heated discussion with Tristan before Paris dragged her off to get her make-up done. I wouldn't count on seeing Tristan at the Gilmore family Christmas party this year."

"Poor Rory," Lorelai sighed, wanting to grab the waif from her deathbed. "If we have learned nothing else from Romeo and Juliet, it's that the first love is always the most intense."

Max gave her hand a brief, brotherly squeeze, wondering if Lorelai was thinking of the boy she fell in love with when she was sixteen. "If watching my students suffer through their parents' divorce has taught me anything," he said, his voice suffused with the warmth of open friendship, "it is that this patch is going to be particularly rough driving. I know we haven't seen each other much outside of school, but you should know that you are always welcome to call me if you need to talk."

Lorelai smiled at him. "Thank you, Max. You are a good friend."

"_The sun, for sorrow, will not show his head. Go hence, to have more talk of these sad things. Some shall be pardoned and some punished. For never was a story of more woe than this of Juliet and her Romeo."_

"Hi, Mom."

Lorelai pulled her subdued daughter into a tight hug. "You die very well, babe," she said. "You should consider that as a career option."

"I wonder why the guidance counsellor never mentioned that," Rory said dryly. Max complimented Rory on her performance and left to mingle with some of the other parents. Lorelai, her arm still around her daughter, took the opportunity to steer Rory into a quiet corridor. "I thought Tristan was going to be Romeo?"

"I thought so, too." Rory pulled the conical headdress off and began brushing her hair with her fingers. "But he crashed his father's car in Woodbury Friday night and I suppose that was the straw that broke the long-suffering camel's back."

"So, military school?"

Rory nodded. "And he told me, in no uncertain terms, that things are over between us."

"Oh. How do you feel about that, sweets?" Lorelai asked, feeling the odd mixture of pain at her daughter's hurt and relief at her daughter's release from Tristan's reach.

"Getting all girly is not going to change anything. It is what it is," Rory shrugged. "Maybe military school might even help Tristan. He … I know you think he's selfish and spoilt, but it's because he has no direction. No goal. No drive. He thinks we'll get everything without working for it and, when we do achieve something, nobody will believe we got it on merit."

Lorelai, remembering Rory's outburst about Yale and the needlessness of school, kept quiet.

"And I don't really like the drifter I've become around him." Rory admitted as she fidgeted with the veil on her headdress, keeping her eyes on her embroidered slippers. "I think the time apart will do us good and I'm sure military school will help give him some direction."

"Or he'll get suspended for hanging the commander-in-chief's underwear on the flagpole," Lorelai pointed out.

Rory rewarded her with a small smile. "Maybe."

"Overall, not a good week for love," Lorelai sighed. "You and Tristan, your father and I …"

"And Paris got a new therapist."

Lorelai cocked her head in surprise. "Why?"

"I wasn't listening too closely. Something about a cricket bat and a restraining order."

"You want to grab a coffee before going back to Paris?"

Rory smiled again. "As long as we don't have to drive all the way to Stars Hollow for it."

xxxxxxxxxx

"Emily."

"Hmmm."

"Emily, have you heard from either of the girls today?" Richard asked, severing the slivers of salmon on his plate. When Emily shook her head, he sighed. "I admit, I am rather concerned about the way we dealt with the situation. It would perhaps have been for the best to discuss the situation with her before Christopher did. We could have avoided the unpleasantness of last night."

Emily daintily sipped her water. "Oh, Richard, you know how histrionic your daughter is. Everything is always such a drama with her."

"True," Richard concurred. "However, it is possibly impossible to overreact to the news that one's husband is having a baby with another woman."

"Oh, every small problem always turns into such a production with Lorelai," Emily tutted. "She gets that from your side of the family, you know. Give her some time. She'll realise how highly inappropriate it is for her to live with Digger Stiles, of all people, and she'll come to see that men often make such mistakes."

"I hope you don't expect such mistakes from me, Emily?"

Emily smiled warmly at her husband. "I have never regarded you as a mere man, Richard."

"Mmm." Richard stabbed at the fish on his plate, missing the cheerful and intelligent chatter of his granddaughter. Sunday night dinner was dull, too dull, without Rory. And the proportions of the Hartford house seemed off. The dining room was too big, too ostentatious, too grandiose for just two people. "All the same, Emily, I rather miss our girls. I wish Lorelai would come to her senses sooner rather than later."

"She will," Emily said complacently.

"Lorelai has always had a way of following her own head." Richard glanced at his wife, recognising the deceptively demure expression on her face from the endless rubbers of bridge they have played together. "I do believe that you usually have that look before going in for the kill, Emily. It usually precedes the accusation that you have somehow stacked the deck."

"When it comes to Lorelai, Richard, it is always well to have a few aces hidden somewhere," Emily winked at him. "I learned that from the Tootsie roll incident. Now eat your fish."

xxxxxxxxxx

"How was the play?"

Lorelai hung her Dior coat on the wooden hook, experiencing the unknown thrill of coming home to a man. "Interesting. There's a lot of teenagers in Hartford who snacked on lead paint as toddlers, by the looks of things." She smiled at him as she took the glass of Petrus he offered her, breathing in the smell of oregano and cheese and tomatoes. "Did you make me supper?" she asked, touched by his thoughtfulness.

"Only if you will make no Jamie Olivier jokes or Gordon Ramsay references," Jason said, kissing her cheek chastely. "I figured that if you couldn't meet Rory for supper, you would appreciate some lasagne."

She drained the wine glass and flung her arms around his neck, holding him to her tightly. He brushed his lips against her forehead softly. "I appreciate you," she murmured, tipping her head back for a kiss that left him breathless with passion. "I've come to three conclusions tonight," Lorelai declared, her finger tracing the buttons on his shirt as she slowly undid them. "One is that my daughter has more maturity when it comes to relationships than I do. Two is that I am definitely getting the divorce lawyer on the phone tomorrow."

"And three?" he asked, enjoying the curve of her body against his.

Lorelai looked at him from underneath her eyelashes, a look created for driving him wild with desire. "Three is that we should recreate that memorable night in New York," she replied, leaning in to leave a trail of hot kisses on his neck and chest. "Soon."

"Are you sure?" Jason asked, his hands gripping her waist tightly.

The way she kissed him left no doubt.

xxxxxxxxxx

"You do realise I have to move out, though," she said afterward, lying with her dishevelled head in the crook of his arm. She laughed when she glimpsed the shock on his face. "It's not appropriate for me to be living with my boyfriend before the divorce papers are finalised. Or even drawn up."

Jason pulled her closer to him again. "Some might say what we were doing not so very long ago is also not appropriate."

"Yes, but we don't need to live together to do that," she replied, nipping at his ear lightly. "In all seriousness, though, I need to find a place where Rory and I can live together. She'll need her mother now."

"I understand that," Jason said softly, twining his fingers through her hand. "Reluctant as I am to share you. Have you considered where you are going to live?"

Lorelai kissed him hard, thanking him mutely for his support. "Rachel said something about an inn near Stars Hollow. It's the town Rory's friend Lane lives in and I've been there a few times. Seems like a nice place to raise a kid. Anyway, living at the inn for the winter break will get Rory away from Hartford and it's still a close commute to the office. And it's so close that you'll have no excuse for not visiting us often."

"On one condition," Jason said, tucking a wayward black strand behind her ear. "You keep referring to me as your boyfriend."

"You like that, do you?" Lorelai smiled mischievously.

The way he kissed her left no doubt.


	17. We're Only Young And Naive Still

**17 – We're Only Young And Naïve Still**

"What am I going to do with you?"

"Lane …"

"I mean, it's great to have somebody around who doesn't think that Belle and Sebastian are Disney characters. But we can walk around Stars Hollow in twenty minutes and then you'll have seen all the sights. Twice."

"Lane, stop hyperventilating. I'm not three. I can amuse myself." Rory stretched out on the bed next to Lane. "As long as Stars Hollow has a bookstore and chilli fries, I'll be fine. And if all else fails, I can always wax end tables for Mama Kim with you."

"She won't have time to do the orientation programme with you," Lane said absent-mindedly. Rory sniggered. "I've watched enough Karate Kid to know all about waxing on and waxing off, Lane."

Lane glanced at her friend's pale face and sad eyes with concern. The Levis and red cashmere sweater Rory wore emphasised her beautiful figure, but also highlighted how tired and listless she looked. Lane had heard that Taylor had been furious with Mia for allowing Lorelai and Rory to move into the Independence Inn with an indefinite check-out date. He had done a passable impression of Joel Osteen, ranting about the safety of the re-enactors, the importance of hearty, healthy small town life and the threat that the 'scarlet woman from Hartford and her daughter' posed to his conception of wholesomeness until Luke threw him out of the diner. The resulting spat had been front page news on the Stars Hollow Gazette for three days running, with some highly opinionated letters written to the editor. Seeing how lethargic Rory looked, Lane whole-heartedly hoped that her new friend hadn't had time to pick up a paper. "So," Lane hesitantly began, "how are you?"

Rory shrugged. "I'm … angry, actually. My dad running to go tell my grandmother before he told me or Mom is the most hurtful, mean thing he could've done."

"Apart from getting another woman pregnant," Lane noted.

"I mean, he knew my grandmother would take his side and that she would work on my grandfather to take his side, too. And then the three of them gang up on Mom like it's somehow her fault. When your husband gets another woman pregnant, your mother should at least be on your side and not blame you for his infidelity." Rory blew some of her hair out of her face, staring at Lane's ceiling without noticing it. "And I'm angry at Mom, too. Sure, she told me about her thing with Jason before it got too serious, but she was still married to Dad when she started imitating Katherine Howard. So maybe it is her fault, too, somehow. And I'm really mad at Tristan for getting himself send to military school at this point in time."

"Tristan never struck me as the Dr Phil type of boyfriend."

"He's not good at listening and pep talks, no. But he's really good at creating diversions and distracting you from stuff like your parents' divorce and the birth of your half-sister." Rory turned onto her side and looked at Lane. "You feel like replacing all the grape juice in the cafeteria with a vintage Merlot or replacing all the documentaries for Mrs. Cummings' class with something pornographic?"

"Not even a little," Lane declined with a grin. "Military school is a luxurious spa in comparison to the punishment Mama Kim will give me."

"Mama Kim gave me a leaflet on the importance of healthy eating habits when I came in," Rory said, pulling a crumpled brochure from her jeans. "Should I read anything into that?"

"That she got a new colour printer and the latest version of Photoshop." Lane took the brochure from Rory and smiled at the dancing carrots on the cover. "I got a collection of these after I made the mistake of telling her the Chilton cafeteria serves pizza."

"You should tell her pizza sauce is officially classified as a vegetable now. Maybe that'll help."

"Not even if the director of the FDA explained it to her himself," Lane laughed.

"Lane, I don't want to offend you, but … uhm … how on earth did you manage to convince your mother to let you go to Chilton Academy?" Rory looked at Lane curiously. "I mean, she has a problem with the food they serve, she made you the longest skirts I've ever seen on anyone who is not Amish and you are never allowed to come to any of the Chilton parties."

"I get my daily fix of Madeleine and Louise at lunch," Lane replied, studying the brochure in her hand intently. Rory sat up and put a conciliatory hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings. I don't want to criticise your mother or anything …" Lane waved away her apology. "I know."

"Did your father convince her?"

"I don't think so."

"Why? Is he as strict as she is?"

"Uh-huh," Lane mumbled, getting up from the bed and putting the brochure away in a ledger. She kept her back to Rory as she spoke. "I don't actually know where my dad is. I mean, I know I'm not the product of immaculate conception or in vitro fertilisation or something like that. He was around when I was younger, but he left before I started kindergarten and whenever I ask my mom about it, she changes the subject."

"Lane, I'm so sorry," Rory whispered.

Lane gave her a small, skew smile and sat down on the bed next to her again. "It's no … okay, it is a big deal and I'll be lying if I said it wasn't. But, while I'm really curious about who he is and where he went, I don't remember having him around and so I don't actually miss him."

"Can't miss what you don't remember, huh."

"Exactly." Lane drew a deep breath and started fiddling with the bedspread. "But my mom misses him, even if she won't say so. I hear her crying at night, sometimes, even though she's a pro at pretending that nothing is wrong. And I worry that, maybe she would have been able to go wherever he went if it wasn't for me. That maybe they would've been together if it wasn't for me."

"Lane," Rory said, tucking her arm around Lane's shoulders. "You know your mother loves you."

"I do. And I want her to be happy. So when she says I'm not allowed to wear short skirts or eat pizza or go to parties, I don't want to fight her on it and make her unhappy. And she appreciates that I listen to her and respect her, so when I started asking her about Chilton, she realised how important it was to me and … well, we struck a deal."

"You get Chilton and she gets no skirts, no pizza and no parties?"

"Exactly," Lane nodded. They sat in companionable silence for a moment, then Lane smiled a little. "Look at us. I have almost no family and you have more family than you like."

"You want to take some of mine?" Rory asked.

"Do you have a rich uncle who'll dote on me and buy me my own recording studio?"

"No, but Korn rents my great-grandmother's house in Hartford."

"That'll do. For a start, anyway."

xxxxxxxxxx

"Coffee and some advice," Rachel said, appearing at Lorelai's table with a refill. "Anything spoken aloud in Stars Hollow immediately becomes known to Miss Patty or East Side Tilly, either one of which will share with Babette first and anyone else who comes along second. So, if you have spinach with your supper two nights in a row, everyone will know that you're anaemic. If you have wine instead of spinach, everyone will know that you're an alcoholic. And if you ever hand in your underwear to the laundry service at the Independence Inn, you wouldn't even have time to turn your back before everyone will know whether you're a thong or a briefs kind of girl."

"Wow," Lorelai replied, taken aback. "Does the FBI know about them? Sounds like we could use that kind of intelligence in our intelligence agencies."

"All I'm saying is that everybody in town is going to know your business and they're going to think it's perfectly okay to quiz you about it," Rachel smiled. "Be prepared for a lot of invasive questioning that'll make the Spanish Inquisition look like a light game of Twenty Questions. Now, do you want a donut or a hamburger with your coffee?"

"Depends. Am I going to be known as a bulimic or an anorexic?"

"With that figure, probably both."

"Then both a hamburger and a donut it is," Lorelai smiled. "But wait until Rory gets here. We're supposed to have dinner together and eating in relay is never fun."

Rachel jotted it down on her notepad. "Hey, have you ever been to France?"

"To Vichy and Marseilles for a summer fling, Paris for Fashion Week a few times. Oh, and Cannes, once, for the film festival. Why?"

"I'm leaving tomorrow morning to do a photo-story," Rachel explained, her eyes bright with anticipation. "At the moment, the idea is to focus on the practical impact of the burkha ban, although I want to see if I can expand it a bit. You know, look at the amalgamation of refugees and non-Western cultures in a Western society."

"Oh," Lorelai said, suddenly feeling like a superficial socialite. Rory would've known how to respond to this, she thought, would've given her some new ideas and tangents to explore. "Sounds like it's going to be an interesting story."

"I'm glad you think so. I want to see if I can track down Ayaan Hirsi Ali, maybe get a few quotables from her. Anyway," Rachel tucked her notepad and pen into her apron, "I'm going to run upstairs and throw some things in a bag. I'd call it packing, but that implies some sense of order."

Lorelai nodded, tongue tied and wondering who Ayaan Hirsi Ali was. The bell over the door chimed as Kirk entered the diner, wearing his one good suit and clutching a pleather briefcase to his chest. He walked over to Lorelai's table purposefully. "Excuse me, Missus Hayden. May I take a seat?" He sat down before Lorelai could reply. "I know that our previous business ventures have not ended as well as one could wish, but I am here today to offer you a once in a lifetime opportunity. I hear tell that you are experiencing some marital difficulties at the moment."

"I believe the correct response is 'that is none of your business, now go away and leave me alone'," Lorelai said, outwardly calm, as she clutched her coffee cup. Kirk tapped his nose and winked at her conspiratorially, oblivious to her homicidal desires. "Say no more. Which is why I am here to offer you my services as a family law and divorce consultant."

"Kirk! You're not a lawyer," Luke barked from behind the counter. "You're not allowed near any bar, let alone the Connecticut Bar."

"Why not?" Lorelai asked, piqued.

"Alcohol is bad for your heart," Kirk responded.

"When he turned twenty-one, he drank two bottles of beer and ran naked through the town square, wearing an Egyptian flag like a Superman cape. He got stuck in a tree and it took three firemen, the chief of police and a freshly baked pecan pie to get him down," Luke told Lorelai and Lorelai giggled at the image. "At the subsequent emergency town meeting, it was agreed that Kirk would forfeit his Stars Hollow citizenship if he gets drunk again."

"Luke, it is unprofessional and unethical to intrude in a conversation between a family law and divorce consultant and a prospective client," Kirk sniffed.

"What is a divorce consultant, anyway?" Lorelai asked, remembering Rachel's description of Kirk and feeling a startling stab of sadness for the lanky man.

"I'll consult with you about your divorce," Kirk replied, as though it was self-explanatory.

"Kirk, if you don't stop pestering the lady, you'll be consulting with the sidewalk," Luke yelled from the kitchen. Kirk slammed his briefcase shut and stalked out of the diner with an injured air. Luke came back into the diner and glanced at Lorelai. "You doing okay, there?"

"This is a strange little town," Lorelai murmured.

"Sure is," Luke agreed affably, fiddling with the toaster. "I've lived here my whole life and I'm not quite used to it yet."


	18. Can You Unfriend Your Family?

**18 – Can You Unfriend Your Family?**

Lorelai passed a cheque across the desk. "This should cover our stay for the next few weeks."

"Ah, if only life happens the way it should," the surly French concierge muttered. "Then I would be on that side of the desk and Julian le Pardite would be checking me in."

"Who is Julian le Pardite?"

"I don't want to talk about him."

"Then don't bring him up."

Before the French concierge could snap at her, Kirk entered the lobby and walked over to her. "Good morning, Missus Hayden. I have come to serve your divorce papers."

"Taking a break from the family law and divorce consultant business, Kirk?" Lorelai asked, perplexed.

"The defendant is represented by Fitzhugh, Leahy and Partners. Since my sister is one of the associates, she's set me up with a little freelancing delivery business. In this economic climate, it does not do to turn away any business," Kirk replied, handing Lorelai a manila folder.

"No, it does not," Lorelai concurred, leafing through the pages inside. "Wow, this looks official."

"I am no expert, but I am told that divorces tend to be official. Which is good, because you don't want a divorce from some lackey at Vultures R Us."

"I had always known that, if the Independence Inn is served with legal documents, Kirk would be involved in some way," Mia said, bemused, as she walked out of the kitchen. A delectable waft of chocolate, cream and cherries followed her. "Of course, I also assumed that it would involve Michel beating Kirk to death with the petty cash. Kirk, why don't you go get a cookie from the kitchen? Sookie is experimenting with her chocolate biscuits again."

"What am I, a dog who panders for biscuits?" Kirk asked, a hurt look on his face.

Mia tilted her head. "Does that mean you don't want a cookie?"

"No," Kirk muttered, walking to the kitchen. Mia smiled at Lorelai. "Do you want a cookie?"

"Only with my oxygen," Lorelai replied, warming to the tiny woman.

"Let's have some tea in the library with our cookies," Mia said, linking her arm with Lorelai's and leading her to a book-lined room. One of the waiters brought over a tray with tea cups and chocolate biscuits and Mia set about pouring out the tea. Lorelai, who never needed the warning of not being friendly with strangers, felt oddly comfortable with the Inn's owner.

_This __is __what __it __would __be __like __to __have __a __mother __who __cared __about __you, __took __your __sides __in __marital __civil __wars, __brought __you __milk __if __you __couldn__'__t __sleep __and __cookies __if __you __needed __cheering __up._

"So, dear, how is everything going?" Mia asked delicately. "I don't mean to pry, but it is always helpful to express one's emotions every now and again."

"Well, it's like ripping off a Band-Aid," Lorelai slowly replied. "I think it's for the best that Chris and I are getting a divorce. Getting married was the biggest mistake I made since the Pageboy Haircut Incident of 1993."

"But it is still a painful process," Mia noted, stirring sugar into her cup.

Lorelai nodded. "Which leaves me feeling very confused. My head says that divorce is the best, and only, option, but my heart keeps asking if I should go through with it if it is so painful."

"Well," Mia said calmly, "nobody goes into a marriage thinking that it will fail."

"True."

"And if it does fail, it is normal to experience self-doubt and a certain amount of heartache. After all, you have a wonderful young daughter with this man. You cannot simply cut the strings and walk off."

"Right," Lorelai agreed. "And I'm worried how Rory will feel once the divorce is permanent. I don't want her to blame me if she doesn't have a good relationship with her father."

"From what I've observed and heard around the town square," Mia said, patting Lorelai's knee affectionately, "I doubt that Rory will be happy if you are not happy. Daughters need their fathers, but they rely on their mothers, you know."

"No, I don't know," Lorelai said bitterly, staring out the Inn's window. "My mother and I have never had a good relationship. I can't rely on her for anything other than sarcastic, snide comments and to take everybody else's side whenever I'm in trouble. You know she actually blames me that my soon-to-be-ex got another woman pregnant? What kind of a mother does that?"

"Oh, dear," Mia worried. "That must have been very difficult for you."

Lorelai nodded again. "Thankfully, I am gone out of that house and I never need to see her or talk to her or hear her disapproving, Lorelai-screwed-up-again-tone."

xxxxxxxxxx

Rory bundled her hands in her Dior coat to keep herself warm as she walked from Lane's house to the Independence Inn. "It's a good thing the town is about the size of a postcard," she muttered to herself. "It's impossible to get lost."

"And it's about as pretty as a postcard, too."

Rory turned to the source of the unexpected voice. The floppy-haired boy from the market smiled at her, a friendly and genuinely affable smile. She found herself smiling back. "Hi. You're Sam, right?"

"No, actually, my name is Dean," the boy replied. "Although a lot of people do confuse me with a Sam. I don't know why that is."

"Well, I have no perspective to offer," Rory said. "I almost never get mistaken for a Sam."

"Almost never?" Dean enquired with a raised eyebrow.

"Well, it was just that one time. And it was dark and I was wearing a baggy overcoat."

"Ah," Dean nodded sagely. "Taking an afterhours trip to Fort Knox, I assume. Just don't let Taylor hear you have a record. He'll hunt you like you dropped a gum wrapper in front of his store."

"This Taylor's an environmentalist, huh?"

"That's a nice way of calling him a pain in the ass."

Rory laughed. "So how about giving me a tour of the town, Dean? Show me where all the environmentalist congegrate."

"Have you been to Luke's?"

"Yes."

"Weston's?"

"That's he bakery with the round cakes, right?"

"Right."

"Then yes."

"And have you walked past the church and the school?"

"Yes."

"Then you've taken the tour of Stars Hollow. Nothing left to show you but the emergency exits."

Rory laughed again. For the first time, she started to feeling that moving to Stars Hollow might have been a good idea after all.

xxxxxxxxxx

Lorelai stared at the pink message slip on her desk in disbelief. "Hey, Maude?" she called her secretary. "Not to beat about the bush or anything, but did Rex Huntingdon sound drunk when he called?"

Maude hovered in the doorway. "No more than usual."

"Then why the hell isn't he taking my divorce case any more? We had all the papers drawn up and everything. I was supposed to meet with him on Thursday to discuss who gets what. Or, as he put it, how to get my hands on everything and leave Chris with nothing but a headache."

"He said he realized he has a scheduling conflict," Maude squirmed.

Lorelai scrunched up the message slip and threw it into her wastepaper basket. "That makes no sense, Maude. His wife Caroline is on the Anthropology Committee of the Hartford Museum of Natural Science with my mother. Has been since before Jurassic Park was a movie. And at every Christmas party I attended without Chris in tow, they've both made thinly-veiled hints that Rex will take my case any time. Did he say when his diary will clear up?"

Maude consulted her notepad. "He said not before Armageddon and possibly not then."

"Great," Lorelai sighed. "Could you call …"

"I took the liberty of calling Georgia Jones, Nicholas Benton and Casey Bartowski. They all have similar scheduling conflicts."

"Did you call Benton senior or Benton junior?"

"Both. Neither one are available." Maude cocked her head. "Whoops, phone."

Lorelai frowned as her secretary ran off. Georgia and Casey were on the Anthropology Committee with Emily. Both the Bentons played regular rounds of golf with Richard and both the Benton wives were involved with the DAR. It didn't take John Nash to see a pattern emerging.

"Hey, now that is not a Friday afternoon face," Jason Stiles said as he entered Lorelai's office, holding a silver box in his hand. "That is more a Monday-morning-and-I've-just-fired-everyone-including-myself-kind of a face."

"My mother is using whatever social leverage she has to stop the best divorce lawyers in Hartford from representing me in the divorce."

Jason frowned. "Should've seen that one coming, I suppose."

"Why?"

"Because Emily is set against the idea of you divorcing Christopher."

"True. But stopping me from having a good lawyer is not going to stop me from getting a divorce," Lorelai puzzled. "There's another angle here. Something I'm not seeing. Something I'm not getting."

"Maybe your mother is just that desperate to stop you divorcing Christopher."

Lorelai sighed. "Maybe."

"Uh, Lorelai," Maude said from the door, looking and sounding as though she particularly dreaded the conversation she was about to have, "your mother just sent you some documents from her lawyer's office."

Lorelai got up and took the manila folder from her nervous secretary. She flipped through the documents inside and gasped aloud when she deciphered the legalese enough to comprehend the contents.

"What's wrong?" Jason asked.

She looked at him with a pale face and burning eyes. "Because of the fact that both Christopher and I are involved in adulterous relationships, my parents are petitioning the court to declare us unfit parents. And they are suing for custody of Rory."

xxxxxxxxxx

_A/N: Just move that pointer on over to the yellow button and leave me your thoughts!_


	19. The Saints Are Coming

**19 – The Saints Are Coming And Even They Are Mad**

"You are looking much happier than before. Stars Hollow agrees with you."

Rory laughed as she bounced onto Lane's bed. "Must be the fresh air."

"Or the beautiful boys," Lane teased.

Rory blushed. "Dean's just a friend."

"Hey, all the best relationships start that way," Lane winked at her.

"How did you know about Dean anyway?"

"In this town?" Lane raised her eyebrow. "You obviously didn't see Page 3 of the Stars Hollow Gazette. Got a picture of you and Dean with a caption that sounds like something Nathaniel Hawthorne wrote."

"I don't even mind," Rory declared expansively, stretching out on Lane's bed. "I'm starting to think this living arrangement, me and my mom in Stars Hollow and my grandparents in Hartford, is for the best. This way, there's a buffer between my mother and my grandparents, enough to keep them from killing each other and not so much as to keep them apart. My parents have spoken on the phone a few times and they've been very civil. I think the divorce might actually bring our family a little closer, make it easier for everyone to get along with each other. It sounds really dippy, I know, but I think this just might work."

"I hope so," Lane said, finding it impossible to be cynical in the face of Rory's joyful confidence. She knew, better than Rory, what it was like to have a mother who hated any mention of her father. Hopefully this divorce would be an exercise in self-control and family responsibility. "Hey, a couple of guys are playing a softball game in the park. Nothing too professional, but they sell massive amounts of cheese-covered foods and Kirk is usually good for a laugh."

"Why, bad player?"

"No, bad heckler."

Rory giggled. "You have a heckler at your softball games? Forget about the cheese, I need to see this!"

xxxxxxxxxx

Luke studied the woman sitting at one of his tables, her left foot tapping on the floor and her fingers drumming on the table. Lorelai had ordered pie while waiting for her daughter, but hardly looked at it. She kept looking at documents she had with her, muttering words like 'crazy' and 'unbelievable' under her breath. Luke had lived with Rachel long enough to recognise all the 'we need to talk' signs. Luke felt as uncomfortable with talking, emotions and girly things like that as the next flannel-wearing fisherman, but seeing Lorelai like that worried him.

As though she could hear his worried thoughts, Lorelai looked at him and waved her mug. "Refill, please."

"Can't."

"Why the hell not?"

Luke gestured at her tapping foot and drumming fingers, classic signs of caffeine addiction. "Stars Hollow bylaws prohibit the enabling of addictive behaviour."

Lorelai glared at him. "That is a particularly crappy joke."

"I'm not joking. And if Taylor knew I fuelled your coffee addiction …," Luke whistled through his teeth. "It would be the Improperly Maintained Lawn Argument all over again."

"Luke …"

Luke held up a hand, warding off her expletive-laden death threat. "Luckily for you, making Taylor angry is one of my favourite passtimes."

"Sadist. Fiend. Demonspawn," Lorelai grumbled, tempted to throw her coffee cup at Luke until he poured her refill. "Lifesaver."

Luke dabbed at a coffee spill carefully. His hand touched hers briefly, sending a jolt of static through her arm. And his. "You need to talk?"

"What?" Lorelai looked at him, wondering if he was serious. His gruff voice and stoic expression gave little away.

"You look tense. Agitated. And not just because of the caffeine withdrawal."

Lorelai sipped her coffee and sighed, feeling an insistent need to vent her frustrations. "The divorce is heating up. And I don't want to tell Rory just how messy it's getting, but I feel like I should, because it involves her, too."

"Ah."

"Is there a private investigator in this town?" Lorelai asked.

He topped up her cup. "Not since Kirk dropped his camera and broke the lens."

"Hey, why does Kirk have so many jobs any way?"

"My guess is that he wants to get away from his mother."

"Don't we all," Lorelai muttered, stabbing at the slice of boysenberry pie on her plate.

"So why do you need a PI? Can't you just stalk your ex with a cameraphone yourself?"

"Yeah, cause that wouldn't be too undignified or illegal or anything," Lorelai replied, then shook her head. "My parents are petitioning the court for custody of my kid. So I figure if they are going to fight dirty, I need to fight dirty too. And PI's are usually helpful in the dirty-fighting-department."

"So do lawyers," Luke pointed out, wiping down the counter. "You should ask, maybe your lawyer has an inhouse PI who can do the dirty fighting."

Lorelai considered. "Yeah, I haven't thought of that."

"And luckily you won't have to see your parents for a while."

Lorelai shook her head. "It's their annual Christmas shindig tomorrow night and I have to go."

"Well, that's just ridiculous," Luke disagreed, frowning heavily. "Firstly, you owe them nothing and secondly, it's still weeks till Christmas."

"They leave for Europe to visit my father's mother next week, so they have their Christmas soiree early," Lorelai explained. "And, for me, it's always been more of a business gathering rather than a birthday celebration. Partially because my parents invite the who's who of Hartford high society, many of whom I do business with, and partially because I managed to make a quick fiver off the Romanian ambassador every year. I have arranged to see some of my clients tomorrow night and if I'm not there, it could really hurt my job."

Luke whistled through his teeth again, managing to make the sound sympathetic. "Sounds like it's going to get rough. You need anything, you let me know, okay?"

"Thanks, Luke," Lorelai whispered. She felt unexpectedly touched by the warmth in his voice, knowing that he would indeed come through for her if needed. It was hard to understand why this man, for all intents and purposes a stranger, would be so willing to help her. Yet it was impossible to mistake the sincerity, the certainty that Luke Danes would assist her in any way he could. "Hey, do you think that maybe …"

"Hi, Mom!" Rory sang as she danced inside the diner, miraculously managing not to trip over her feet. "I have had the most amazing day!"

Lorelai looked her daughter's face, a happy face for the first time in many days, and felt her heart drop into her stomach. There was no way she could tell Rory, a beaming Rory, that her grandparents had managed to pull the dirtiest trick imaginable. The pending divorce had hit her hard and she didn't want to ruin the first happy moment her daughter had experienced in weeks. Time enough to tell her. "What made your day amazing, kid?"

"Oh, nothing in particular. Just walked around town with Lane and some of her friends from Stars Hollow High," Rory shrugged as she pulled Lorelai's plate towards her and started nibbling at the pie. "Hmmm, this is delicious! Almost as good as Grandmother's Christmas apple tarts!"

"Now that's high praise," Lorelai said, trying to smile.

"Hey, you're going to be nice to Grandma tomorrow night, right?" Rory warned.

"Why would you say that?"

"Well, I've gotten a few texts from her and some e-mails from Grandpa. They both miss us, you know, and they're probably feeling very sensitive at the moment."

"Rory …"

"I know, it may not look like it, but you know that Grandmother just wants what's best for you." Rory looked at her mother earnestly. "It's not their fault you and Dad can't make it work as a married couple, so don't let the divorce drive a wedge between you guys."

Lorelai sighed, but she couldn't bring herself to dampen Rory's cheerful mood. Time enough to tell her. "I won't drive a wedge if they won't drive a wedge," she mumbled.

"Good. Now how about we have some ice cream with this divine pie?"


	20. About As Holly Jolly As It Gets

**20 – About As Holly Jolly As It Gets**

_A/N: Again, I thank you for the reviews. Leave me your thoughts at the end, please!_

xxxxxxxx

"My stomach hurts."

"No, it doesn't."

"I'm bleeding from the head."

"No, you're not."

"My leg is broken."

"Grow up."

"Be nice."

"Yes," Rory emphasised, turning Lorelai's silver Merc into the familiar Hartford driveway. Not even the spangling of bright Christmas lights, cheerfully strung amongst the windowsills and sparkling from the trees, could lighten Lorelai's mood. "Nice is going to be the theme of the evening. You are going to be nice to your parents, your parents are going to be nice to you and I, true to my inner Bambi, will be nice to everyone. We will have nice food, nice wine for those over the legal drinking age, nice chitchat, nice presents and a nice drive back to Stars Hollow."

"For what I'm paying in school fees, Chilton should be teaching you many synonyms for the words 'nice'," Lorelai grumbled.

"All right then. Appetizing food, delicious wine, polite and entertaining dinner conversation, lovely presents and a scenic drive," Rory rectified, parking the car with a flourish. "All of which will emphasise a general feeling of niceness, with overtones of niceness and undercurrents of niceness."

"I hope you don't know any synonyms for what I'm calling you in my mind right now."

"Mom," Rory said seriously, "it is really important to me that this divorce does not drive my family apart. I don't like the idea of having to spend all of my future holidays negotiating some sort of truce between you and Grandmother. I don't relish the thought that all of the important events in my life, my last day at high school and my first day at college, my graduation, my wedding, the birth of my children, will all be marred by a hostile and bitter relationship between four of the people I love the most in the world. When I get married, I don't want to have to worry about you beating Grandmother to death with the bouquet and when my baby is born, I don't want to have to worry about Grandfather trying to strangle Dad with the umbilical cord."

"Honey, I don't think my father will even come into the hospital room until both you and Baby Rory have been bathed," Lorelai pointed out. "He's strictly a pacing-outside-smoking-my-cigar-kind of guy."

"Okay then, change that to not wanting to worry about Grandfather burning Dad's feet with his cigar. Now," Rory continued undaunted, "f you have any sort of love for your favourite daughter, at all, you will go in there and make Miss Manners proud. You'll be channelling the spirit of Emily Post like you're a human Ouija board. Do we have a deal?"

"Only because you're my favourite daughter," Lorelai said, touching Rory's cheek lightly. "And because you'll promise to keep the idea of high school, college, graduation, wedding and childbirth in that specific order. No high school, childbirth, college, wedding, graduation for you, Missy."

"Seems like a fair trade," Rory grinned.

"And no pressure to follow college with wedding and childbirth immediately, you know."

"I know."

"No rushing into wedlock or motherhood."

"You do now that, no matter how much you stall, we're going to have to go inside eventually."

Lorelai pulled a face. "I was hoping for later rather than sooner."

"Mom ..."

"Just getting it all out of my system so that my inner Bambi can come out and play," Lorelai said quickly, then turned as another car glided into the driveway. "Great. We can go in with the Halpburns."

"Great," Rory echoed. "But in case you get any Great Escape-inspired ideas, I am keeping the car keys with me."

"You are too pretty to be so cynical, young grasshopper."

"Thanks for calling me pretty," Rory smiled as the Lorelais got out of the car.

"Lorelai! Rory! You both look gorgeous, darling, simply gorgeous!" Tweeny Halpburn simpered as she tottered over. "I cannot make an entrance next to two such lovely ladies, I shall be put to shame immediately."

"We have a spare paper bag in the car somewhere, if you want to pull it over your head," Lorelai offered.

Rory nudged her. "Mom ..."

"What? We can poke some air holes in there."

"Oh, darling, I am going to have to drink a lot of gin to keep up with your mother!" Tweeny tittered. "Shall we?" She rang the doorbell with gusto and beamed at the maid who opened the door. "Take us to your gin, darling!"

"Words I never want to hear out of your mouth, by the way," Lorelai whispered to Rory.

"Cool, I'll just stick to the rum then." Rory took in the decorations and laughed. "Wow, it's like the North Pole in here!"

The tuxedoed waiters, all with sprigs of mistletoe in their buttonholes, were circulating snowflake-shaped canapés and drinks with snowflake-shaped ice cubes. Petit fours shaped like Christmas boxes were also doing the rounds and the ubiquitous string quartet was playing merry Christmas carols.

"Last time I've seen this house this festive was when a raging homophobic Republican was elected senator," Lorelai said, then noticed her parents making their way across their foyer. "I just have to go ... be somewhere ... else ..."

"Let the niceness begin," Rory grabbed her mother's elbow firmly and dragged her over to Emily and Richard. "Hi!"

"Hello, Rory," Emily said, pecking her granddaughter's cheek. "Lorelai."

"Mother."

"How _nice_to see you," Rory said, hugging her grandfather and staring pointedly at Lorelai.

"Yeah. Hey, I see somebody with drinks. Nice drinks," Lorelai gestured towards a waiter and gulped down the contents of the glass he proferred. "Wow, Mom, since when are you serving tequila?"

"Rory, can I interest you in some rare first editions?" Richard said. Rory linked her arm with his and smiled broadly. "Let's go, Grandfather."

Emily and Lorelai stood in uncomfortable silence, not quite making eye contact.

"I need to check on the ..."

"I have to go say hi to ..."

They walked off in opposite directions. Then Emily checked herself and walked back. "I am open to negotiate," she said stiffly.

Lorelai choked on the second drink she had gulped down. "The negotiation phase ended when you told the court I am an unfit parent, Mother."

"If you drop the divorce action, your father and I will withdraw our bid for custody of Rory."

Lorelai grabbed a third drink to steady herself. "I am here tonight because my daughter asked me to be," she said with slowly burning anger. "I am not here to negotiate the niceties of my divorce with you."

"Lorelai, I am your mother. I have the right to be concerned when you act in a destructive manner."

Lorelai took a deep breath to stop herself from yelling. "Your right to be my mother ended when you wanted to be Rory's mother."

"Don't be petulant, Lorelai, it doesn't suit you."

Lorelai shook her head. "You are unbelievable, you know. If somebody told me this story, I wouldn't believe it. If I saw it on The Jerry Springer Show, I would've petitioned the network to send the women involved for sterilisation."

"Lorelai, the solution is simple. You cannot tear your family apart because of a momentary fancy for Digger Stiles. Because you seem incapable of realising that yourself, I nudged you in the right direction." Emily smiled at a passing guest as though she and Lorelai were simply discussing interior decorators.

"Christopher is having a baby with another woman, mother, are you capable of realising that?"

Emily shrugged, if a gesture from such an elegant lady could be called something as crass as a shrug. "It is a temporary problem in your marriage. If I had turned my back on your father every time we had a tiff ..."

"So how many babies does Dad have with other women?"

Emily sighed in exasperation. "Lorelai, the option is simple. Either you have your precious feminist independence or you have custody over your daughter. You choose."

"Excuse me, but I think I should have some choice here, too," Rory said bitterly. Both Emily and Lorelai started and stared at the teenager with expressions of shock and guilt. Rory had wanted to show her mother a particularly rare Fitzpatrick novel and had overheard most of the conversation. Lorelai placed a placatory hand on her shoulder, which Rory threw off angrily. "Are you seriously petitioning the court for custody of me, Grandma?"

"It is for the best, Rory," Emily defended her indefensible strategy, placing her hand over Rory's hand.

Rory shot a hurt look at Lorelai. "And you knew about it?"

Lorelai nodded resignedly.

"Since when?"

"Since yesterday," Lorelai admitted. "I would've told you when we met for supper, but you seemed so happy, kid. I just ..."

"Save it," Rory snapped, pulling loose from her grandmother's grip and walking away.

"Rory ..."

"Lorelai ..."

"Save it, Mother," Lorelai snarled. "You just cost me my daughter. If I see your face again, it will be at court. And definitely don't talk to me. Talk to my lawyer."

Lorelai followed her daughter hurriedly, but the spat with Emily had given Rory enough time to get into the Merc and squeal away. Lorelai watched her leave. "It's beginning to feel a lot like Christmas," she groaned, then went inside to borrow a car from the Romanian ambassador so that she could follow her daughter to Stars Hollow. She bumped into Richard, who had followed her outside.

"Lorelai ..."

"I'm not interested, Dad," she said flatly, trying to walk past him.

He gripped her arm in his. It was the first time in many years that he had touched her. "Lorelai, I did not know about your mother's plans. Nor would I have supported her if I did."

"I don't believe you."

"That is your prerogative," Richard resignedly let go of her arm. "But you need to know that I neither instigated nor encourage this insanity. Rory may not know it at this moment in time, but she needs you in her life more than she needs your mother or me."

"Finally something we can agree on," Lorelai retorted. She spotted the ambassador she'd been looking for. "Ah, Stefan! I'll let you slide on the fiver you owe me from last year if ..."

"Honestly, your daughter is a drama queen," Emily said as she came to Richard's side. "Every party I have hosted in the last few weeks has been centred on her histrionics."

Richard looked at her and walked away without replying.


	21. Spreading The Holiday Cheer

**21 – Spreading The Holiday Cheer**

_A/N: Again, I thank you for the reviews. Leave me your thoughts at the end, please! This is just a quick update – I am not sure when the next instalment will be, please bear with me! _

Xxxxxxxx

_Bathroom. Toothpaste. Water. _

Rory blinked disoriented, her mind too befuddled by sleep to put a name to anything but the most basic of bodily needs. She rubbed the sand from her eyes and sat up.

_Go to the bathroom and get rid of the metal carpeting in your mouth and drink enough water to drown the angry troupe of elephants thumping around your head. Then figure out where you are. _

As she splashed water on her face, the clouds of sleep scattered enough to clear her memories of the previous night. She couldn't bear the thought of arriving at Lane's house halfway through the night again, especially not with the taste of foot in her mouth. How childish to expect that her family, of all families, would be able to go through a divorce in an amicable manner? she thought. Divorce would place an immense strain on any family, especially one with a collective emotional intelligence equivalent to the average four-year-old's.

"You seriously thought that Lorelai "Industrial Forklift For My Emotional Baggage, Please" Hayden and Christopher "All Problems Can Be Solved By Applying Enough Cash" Hayden would sat down and discuss things like the mature adults they'll never become? Or that Richard "Oops, Hide, Here Comes An Emotion" Gilmore and Emily "Dictators Without Borders" Gilmore would actually allow them to solve their own problems. Especially not once Sherry "Unmarried And Having A Baby With A Married Man" Tinsdale and Jason "Serenades Married Mothers" Stiles entered the picture." Rory mocked her reflection resentfully. "For a supposedly smart person, you can be a real idiot sometimes, you know."

She dried her face. Obviously, going back to the Inn was out. And, since more than half of her clothes were still at Paris's house, the choice became moot and she steered the silver Merc over to the Gellers' house.

"_Wow," Paris remarked when Rory finished her story, including divorces and custody disputes and babies soon to be born out of wedlock. "Strange to be on the other side of one of these my-family-should-be-on-Ricki-Lake-stories." _

_Rory sniffed, half-stifling her tears and half-laughing. "Coming from you, Paris, that's as good as a hug."_

"_And as close as you're going to get," Paris warned. "I saw on a documentary on Charlie Rose last night about germs. I TiVoed it and, trust me, it is going to put you off physical displays of affection for the rest of your life."_

"_That'll make me really popular in college."_

"_Hmmm," Paris looked at her. "You're welcome to stay here as long as you want. Until college, if that's what you need."_

_Rory felt like crying again, but for a completely different reason. "Thanks, Paris, but I can't impose on you."_

"_There's nineteen bedrooms in this house, Rory, it's impossible to impose."_

"Nanny made you waffles for breakfast," Paris called from the bedroom. "She has this insistent, semi-pseudo-quasi-religious belief that breakfast in bed can solve most problems, so get your butt under these covers, Gilmore!"

"Such service," Rory said as she slipped back into bed. Paris handed her a wooden tray piled high with waffles, a variety of syrups and butters and a perfectly adequate size of coffee. It also held copies of the New York Times, the Post, the Telegraph and TIME Magazine. Rory glanced at Paris. "Nanny believes in the healing properties of print media too, huh?"

"Shut up and eat your waffles," Paris replied amicably, taking the Times and settling down cross-legged next to Rory.

"Thanks, Paris."

"Remember what I said about no hugs."

"It'll haunt me until my dying day," Rory promised.

Paris took the television remote from the end table and switched on, flipping through the channels until she reached her favourite news channel. She froze as a familiar figure filled the screen.

"... footage showing the car accident. It appears that Mrs. Hayden steered the vehicle into a rooster statute just off the I1 between Hartford and Stars Hollow. She has been taken into custody following a breathalyser test showing that she was well over the legal limit. When questioned about her possession of the Romanian ambassador's vehicle, Mrs. Hayden said that quote she and Stefan were like Lily and Marshal, only less creepy and we don't share a toothbrush unquote." The journalist smirked. "The Romanian embassy has since declined to comment on both Mrs. Hayden's possession of the vehicle and Mr. Varushnykov's dental hygiene. Back to you, Veronica."

The camera panned back to the anchor's bemused face. "Looks like James Bond is not the only one asking Santa for a new Ashton Martin this year. Let's check in with Todd in Chopper One to see if Mrs. Hayden has caused any other traffic jams, shall we?"

Paris glanced at Rory, wondering if it was possible that the Telegraph had distracted her friend from the smirking and the sneering. Rory was staring at the screen, mouth open, a piece of waffle speared with a fork halfway through the air. She blinked twice and stared incredulously at the screen.

"My mother crashed into Monty the Rooster after stealing the Romanian ambassador's Ashton Martin and she's been arrested for drunken driving?" she shrieked.

Xxxxxxxxxx

Lorelai stalked through the halfway, the staccato clack of her heels a perfect accompaniment to her anger. She mumbled something inappropriate as she signed out her personal effects, sarcastically thanking the officer for giving her back her possessions and strode out of the police station.

"Slamming the door to a police station that loudly can probably get you booked for public vandalism," Jason remarked. He was perched on the bonnet of his Maserati and Lorelai gratefully flung her arms around his neck, half-laughing and half-crying. Jason rubbed her back in slow circles, enjoying the feel of her body against his. "I talked to Jonathan Burchell; he talked to the embassy and got them to lean on the police to drop the charges. He's also going to take your divorce case, if you want him to, and he's already been yelling at his interns to get him all the case law on custody awards granted to grandparents. Frankly, he was so happy to take your case that it was just disturbing."

"Any word on Rory? She got the Inn safely?"

"I phoned the Inn and the delightful French concierge told me that she hadn't checked in," Jason began and hastened to reassure his frightened girlfriend. "Just as I hung up, Paris called and said that Rory will be staying with her for a while. She wanted to know if any of Rory's things was at my apartment. Apparently Paris is driving around the state of Connecticut today with a collection of boxes to make sure that all of Rory's possessions can be in the same house for the first time in more than a month. Her words, not mine."

Lorelai stepped away from Jason, nodding and rubbing some liquid salt from her eyes.

"Lorelai ..."

"It's been a long night," Lorelai said, her voice cracking as she tried to smile. "Thank you for ..."

"No thanks necessary," Jason comforted her. "Jonathan Burchell did say that the chances of your parents winning are very slim. Slimmer than the average Scandinavian air hostess."

Lorelai shook her head, thinking of the last time she saw her daughter and reliving the powerlessness she experienced when her daughter drove away from her in a rage. "They already won, Jason."

Xxxxxxxxxx

Packing was a chore made rapid-fire by rage. Yanking linens off the bed, seizing clothes from closet rails so quickly that the hangers rattled, grabbing books from their shelves – all bodily movements designed to moderate wrath, all designed to ease the indulgence in fury and ire. And indulged Rory did.

"Can you bloody believe this? She's all oh, Rory, I'm worried about what'll happen with you if you go out with Tristan and oh, Rory, please don't crash any more Civil War re-enactments," Rory fumed as she slammed a desk drawer shut. "But then what does she do? Steal a Maserati, crash it into a landmark and get herself arrested for drunken driving after causing a scene on national television! Can you say hypocrite?"

"I'm assuming this means you are definitely not going to want to live with Lorelai," Paris calmly surmised as she stacked dictionaries into a box.

Rory snorted.

"That means the court will want you to choose between Christopher and your grandparents, you know."

"The choice between the father who has procreated out of wedlock or the grandparents who want to exercise every last inch of control over me?" Rory pointed out with another angry snort. "That's like choosing between rabies and a flesh-eating bacteria."

"I am sorry to hear that you feel that way," Richard remarked as he walked into Rory's bedroom. "However, I certainly understand your feelings."

Rory looked at him mutely, the sting of betrayal and loss clearly marked in her eyes.

"Oh, Rory," he sighed. "I was not aware of your grandmother's bid for custody. Nor, as it happens, do I support or condone it."

"Your signature on the papers," Rory muttered as she grabbed clear laundry bags filled with designer summer dresses.

"Forged," Richard succinctly explained. "Emily has a certain gift of penmanship."

"Clearly."

"However, I have come up with a viable solution to the predicament we find ourselves in," Richard said, helping Paris to tape up the box. "You are aware of the fact that I am the trustee of a trust fund that will accrue to you upon your twenty-fifth birthday."

Rory grunted.

"I am also the trustee of a trust fund established for the express purpose of allowing you to pursue your academic goals. Be it college, grad school or," Richard paused, "high school."

"Yeah, you're like Richie Rich's dad," Rory mumbled. "What's your point?"

Paris looked inquisitively at Richard. "Are you suggesting what I surmise you are suggesting, Dick?"

"Quite possibly," Richard nodded. "As trustee of the funds, I am capable of paying Rory an allowance that would allow her to rent or buy and furnish a moderately sized apartment in a good neighbourhood while she completes her studies at Chilton. After that, and if Rory so wishes, I would be able to pay for any college tuition."

Rory turned to look at Richard without a smile on her face. "What's the catch?"

"What do you mean?"

"Gilmores never do anything without ulterior motives, do they? You just want to keep me under your control."

Richard sighed brokenly. "No, Rory. I want to ensure that you have all the opportunities you deserve, unmarred by a hostile family environment. You have clearly expressed your disinclination to live with either your parents or your grandparents and, as much as it hurts me, I understand it. I therefore wish to provide you with the chance to live on your own."

"Like the courts will allow me to," Rory grumbled.

"They will," Paris said, "if you apply for emancipation."

xxxxxxxxxx


	22. Really Going To Need You To Focus Up

**22. Really Going To Need You To Focus Up**

"Now, I am aware that the law prescribes a certain amount of paperwork that needs to be finalised," Judge Ian Mellencamp said as he settled into his power seat at the head of the boardroom table. He looked at the four adults with their straight backs and serious faces, all dressed to impress the judge of the family court. Family law tended towards sticky tangents and rehashing of old family scandals; Judge Mellencamp had accordingly requested that the parties leave their legal representatives behind for the Monday morning pre-trial conference. "However, due to the complexity of the case and some of the allegations that have been made, I am of the opinion that the five of us should sit down to discuss the way forward. I believe it will ultimately benefit the minor child, whose best interests we all carry at heart."

Emily sniffed disdainfully.

"Any questions, ma'am?" Judge Mellencamp asked, a touch of frost underlying his genial words.

"I am sure that some of us are more concerned for Rory's wellbeing than others, that is all," Emily huffed, looking meaningfully at Lorelai and Christopher sitting across from her.

"Nice," Lorelai muttered. "At least I didn't forge anyone's signatures, Mother."

"Oh, yes, you did."

Lorelai's eyes widened in angry disbelief. "When?"

"Sixth grade. You wanted to go on a field trip to some rodeo or carnival and because I didn't want you to be served roadkill or toxic corndogs for lunch, I refused. You signed the slip yourself and went anyway."

"Because signing a permission slip for a field trip and forging someone's signature on legal papers is exactly the same thing?" Lorelai cried.

"Well, actually," Christopher began, holding up his hands in a placatory gesture when Lorelai glared at him, "a permission slip for a field trip is an indemnity form, so it probably counts as a legal document, too."

"Ah-hah!" Emily crowed in vindication and turned to the judge. "You should note that. Why aren't you noting that?"

"I am going to call for civility here. These may be relatively informal proceedings, but we are all educated grown-ups and it would behove you to behave as such," Judge Mellencamp cautioned. Years of family law has blunted him to the most Jerry Springer-esque behaviour and, while he was inwardly amused by the little spat, his amusement was not reflected in his stern frown. Although he would probably indulge in a few chuckles once the parties have left the pre-trial conference. "Now, I gather that you have been unwilling to sign your name to the documents submitted requesting custody of your granddaughter. Is that so, Mister Gilmore?"

"I will always be willing to provide a home for my granddaughter," Richard said formally. "However, if she wishes to live elsewhere, I would not want to impose on her."

Lorelai snorted. "Like you didn't want to impose the idea of marriage on me and Chris, right Dad?"

"Lorelai, this discussion is not about you. I know that may be hard for you to grasp," Richard replied, still in a formal tone, "but we need to talk about what is best for Rory."

"I am what is best for Rory," Lorelai shot back. "She should be living with me, with the home I can make for her."

"A home that you will share with a man who is not your husband?" Richard replied.

"And that will probably be cluttered and filthy," Emily added, tapping on the table in front of the judge to get his attention. "She's always been really untidy. And she's got Tootsie rolls in ..."

"Will you let go of the damn Tootsie rolls already?" Lorelai shouted.

"She said damn," Emily pointed out to the judge. "In addition to her amoral behaviour and fraudulent field trip slips, she uses foul and vulgar language. Why aren't you writing that down either?"

"Every damn time that you want something to throw in my face, you bring up the Tootsie rolls!"

"Emily, I am sure that the judge knows how to do his job," Richard stated. "Just calm down and stop trying to interfere."

"Enough with the damn Tootsie rolls!"

"Honey, try to relax," Christopher told Lorelai.

"I am not interfering. Richard, tell the judge that I am not interfering. I am simply trying to do what is best for my granddaughter. I would have thought that you would be more supportive," Emily said.

"I am not your honey! You lost all honey privileges when you made a baby with another woman!" Lorelai yelled.

Christopher's eyes flashed with anger. "You're one to talk. How long have you been running around with Jason before you had the decency to tell me?"

"I told you about Jason once I knew how much I love him! You waited until the last possible moment to tell me about Sherry and you made sure that the entire Hartford knew before I did!"

"How do you know I don't love Sherry either?"

"Because you love nothing but your bike!"

"See how vicious and petty they are? That's a toxic environment for a child to grow up in. You should write that down too." Emily grabbed the judge's notebook and pen. "Well, seeing as how you're not interested in ..."

"Emily, you can't just ..."

"Richard, don't tell me what ..."

"I told you about Jason before ..."

"Sherry doesn't want me to ..."

"Enough!" Judge Mellencamp bellowed. His voice was like a shower of ice over fighting dogs and the four adults subsided, staring guiltily at the table or defiantly out the window according to their characters. "Clearly there are some issues that need to be resolved between the four of you. And, I have to admit, that I am rather reluctant to award custody to any of you after that appalling display. I know that divorce and custody matters can place immense strain on one's personal relationships, but good grief. You are all acting like children while asking me to grant you power over a child!"

"I am not acting like a child, young man, but like a concerned parent and grandparent," Emily decreed dictatorially, peering at the judge with suspicion. "Anyone who had a loving relationship with his parents would realise that. Did you grow up in a broken home? You seem awfully jaded."

"Ma'am, if you do not desist, I will have the orderly of the court remove you."

"You can't do that. This is not an official courtroom," Emily retorted, not looking the least cowed.

"Then I will remove you myself," Judge Mellencamp stated simply. Something in his tone finally warmed Emily and she sniffed quietly as she sat back in her seat. "Now, to return to the issue at hand. You are willing to provide a home for your granddaughter as long as she is willing to live there, Mister Gilmore?"

"Of course."

Judge Mellencamp nodded. "And I assume the parents of the minor both wish to retain custody of their child."

"Yeah," Christopher said.

"Of course," Lorelai replied.

"How would your respective partners feature into the home? Missus Hayden, does your daughter know the man that you have recently formed an attachment with?"

"She does. They're not exactly Seventh Heaven with each other, but they get along."

"And how does your daughter feel about the pregnancy, Mister Hayden?"

"I don't know," Christopher admitted slowly. "We haven't had time to talk and she hasn't responded to any of my e-mails. I'm trying to give her some space so that she'll talk to me once she's ready."

"I can tell you how she feels," Lorelai opined. "She feels like you're going to neglect her even more than you already do once you have another child with another woman. You travel so much that she hardly sees you anyway and now she's going to have to split that time with another child."

"Of course you're the only one who knows Rory, apparently," Emily sniffed. "I believe that she relishes the thought of having a baby brother or sister. Being an only child is not always fun, you know."

"I do know," Lorelai retorted sharply. "I am an only child. You didn't seem to think being an only child was such a bad thing when I was growing up."

"I doubt that my family planning is relevant at this stage," Emily said, looking offended.

Judged Mellencamp cleared his throat. "I believe that the mother may have some valuable insight into her daughter's character. However, I would feel more comfortable at having collaboration from the minor herself. Despite your earlier behaviour, I would indeed wish for the minor to be present. Any idea when she will be arriving, Missus Hayden?"

Lorelai opened her mouth to reply, but Richard smoothly interjected. "I believe she will be here shortly, Your Honour. I took her to Charlie Davenport this morning as I believe she could use a legal representative of her own."

Judge Mellencamp noted something on his pad.

"Oh, that you write down," Emily scoffed.

"You are aware of the fact that the court would appoint a curator if needed, Mister Gilmore?"

Richard nodded. "However, I believed that my granddaughter would need legal assistance before the matter proceeded that far."

"Legal assistance for what, Dad?" Lorelai asked warily.

"Now, Missus Hayden, I notice you have made your television debut over the weekend. Do you often drink to excess?"

"No!" Lorelai spluttered. "I only had three glasses of wine. I was perfectly fine to drive."

"Which is why the Romanian embassy is working with the police to have the charges dropped," Richard interceded. Lorelai glanced at him, surprised and grateful for his unexpected support.

"It does not comfort me to think that your indiscretions can be swept under the carpet so easily," Judge Mellencamp noted. "I have to be concerned about the example you set for your daughter."

"I never drink to excess. And you should note that it was alcohol that made Lorelai's boyfriend serenade her most inappropriately during a function for a friend of the family," Emily interjected disdainfully; pronouncing 'boyfriend' as though it was an unspeakable profanity.

"It wasn't alcohol, Mother, it was love. Something you're yet to experience."

"Lorelai, don't talk to your mother that way."

Lorelai glared at Richard. "Then tell her to not talk to me that way."

"I wasn't talking to you," Emily said, "I was talking to the judge."

"Mister Hayden, did you marry your wife simply because she was pregnant?" Judge Mellencamp asked, ignoring the Gilmore spat.

Christopher shook his head. "I always loved Lorelai. I don't want to get a divorce from her. I'm sure we can work out our problems without lawyers and courtrooms."

"I don't think so," Lorelai disagreed. "You seem incapable of realising that your having a baby with another woman and the fact that I'm in love with someone else has pretty much caused the end of our relationship."

A soft knock on the door was followed by the entry of Judge Mellencamp's clerk, who handed him a sheaf of documents. As he studied them, Lorelai was sure she noticed a wry tug around the corner of his mouth. But when he glanced up from the documents at the adults around him, he seemed impervious to anything funny. "It seems that Miss Hayden has filed a request for emancipation."

"What?" Emily and Lorelai exploded together.

"That can't be right," Christopher shot upright in his chair. "There has to be a mistake somewhere."

"Could you bring in Miss Hayden, please?" Judge Mellencamp asked his clerk, who turned and beckoned at someone. Rory walked inside the boardroom, not looking at anyone but the judge. "Miss Hayden, I see that you have filed a request for emancipation. Can you clarify your motives, please?"

"I don't wish to live with either my parents or my grandparents, Your Honour," Rory replied determinedly.

"Do you wish to elaborate on why that is?" Judge Mellencamp gently probed.

Rory shook her head firmly.

"I suggested the option of emancipation to her, Your Honour," Richard explained, ignoring the shocked and betrayed looks from his wife and daughter. "As my wife had applied for custody without my knowledge or consent and as my daughter and son-in-law are going through what seems to be a painfully messy divorce, I believe that it would be beneficial for Rory to live on her own. If I am not mistaken, Charlie Davenport will have outlined the financial provisions that I have made on Rory's behalf to allow her to live in safety and comfort."

"After the abysmal lack of manners you have displayed earlier, I am inclined to agree that Miss Hayden would benefit from living on her own. However, I have insufficient information to either grant or deny this request. Miss Hayden, I will need further proof that you are capable of living on your own. Be prepared for the fact that your parents are likely to oppose this application," Judge Mellencamp told Rory. "Where are you staying at the moment?"

"With my friend Paris Geller."

"Good. I will recommend that you stay there, although you are welcome to move in with either one of your parents or your grandparents if that is your wish." Judge Mellencamp gathered his documents together. "Pending the outcome of Miss Hayden's request for emancipation, I postpone these proceedings until further notice."

xxxxxxxxxx

"How'd your court thing go?"

Lorelai looked blankly at the man with the backwards baseball cap. "What?"

"Your court thing. That was today, wasn't it? How'd it go?" Luke repeated, feeling uncomfortable. He wasn't sure if he could ask, if he could initiate a conversation with a relative stranger on something relatively private. But Rachel had asked him in her last e-mail to keep an eye on Lorelai. And since second grade, Luke did what Rachel asked. So when Lorelai came into the diner and ordered coffee with a vacant expression, he asked about the court thing. Babette and Miss Patty had kept everyone in Stars Hollow abreast of the legal developments. But as Lorelai gave him the Cliff Notes version, Luke felt even more uncomfortable about intruding in her private affairs. He wasn't the emotional Mr. Fix-It and while he hated seeing someone in pain, he hated his inability to help even more. "Sounds rough. What are you going to do next?"

"Not much, according to my lawyer," Lorelai replied dejectedly, staring at her coffee cup without actually seeing it. "Apparently we can only oppose her application, but to do so with too much vehemence might damage my chances of getting custody of her in the divorce itself. And we don't have much to use anyway. Rory's always been more responsible than I am. If anything, she should apply for custody of me."

Luke reached out to pat her shoulder comfortingly, but dropped his hand. "I'm sure she'll come round."

"How do you know that?"

"I just know." Luke began wiping down the counter to stop himself from hugging Lorelai, a gesture he felt sure she would rebuke. "When my mom died, my sister did all sorts of crazy things. She didn't mean to do any of them, she was just really hurt and angry."

"You should've seen Rory at the court today," Lorelai sighed, feeling strangely comforted by Luke's presence. "She epitomised hurt and angry."

"People expect you to be all grown-up the moment you turn sixteen," Luke said, turning to Lorelai again. "But they forget that you're still a kid inside. Rory is just a hurt, angry kid who needs to work through some things on her own. She'll come round."

Lorelai's memory flashed to Rory's face when she walked out of the Gilmores' Christmas party, her face when she walked into the courtroom. "I hope you're right."

"I know I am," Luke said, his eyes offering comfort and hope. He finally caved and reached over to squeeze Lorelai's hand. The touch galvanized them both. "You want some coffee with that pie?"

"You sound like Rachel," Lorelai said, her tongue dry, as she tried to smile. "She's always trying to sell me pie and donuts and ice cream. When is she coming back, by the way?"

Luke felt his back stiffen at the mention of his girlfriend, feeling an odd jolt of guilt. "Not sure," he mumbled. "Let me go get your pie."

Lorelai sighed as Luke disappeared into the kitchen, wondering what she had said to cause the flash of emotion on his face. "You always push 'em away, Lorelai," she muttered to herself, thinking of her daughter and her soon-to-be-ex husband. On a sudden impulse, she took the Blackberry from her Fendi bag and sent off a quick message.

_Love you. Mom._

The reply came back quicker than she expected.

_You too. Doesn't change anything. Sorry._


	23. Three Months Later

**Chapter 23: Three Months Later**

"So?" Rachel asked impatiently.

"So?" Luke echoed, looking perplexed.

"How's Lorelai?" Rachel asked, as though it was clear that it was one of the first questions she'd have after being picked up from the airport. To be fair, she could see that Luke was physically fine and that she would've known by now if Caesar had fulfilled Luke's Nostradamus moment by setting the diner on fire; catching her up on town news took all of three sentences (Taylor was irritating, Kirk needed a life or, failing that, a qualified psychiatrist who wasn't shy about doling out the happy pills and Babette's new gnome had been stolen). Asking about Lorelai was about the only topic they haven't discussed on the drive from the airport to Stars Hollow (apart from politics and neither one was belligerent enough to touch that).

Luke muttered something that could be constructed as "well ... you know ..."

"No, Luke," Rachel half-laughed as they turned onto the intestate, "I don't know. Which is why I'm asking. What's happening between her and Rory?"

Luke grunted, unwilling to share the half-spoken secrets Lorelai had mentioned over her increasingly regular cups of coffee. "Do I look like Miss Patty?"

"Put on a sparkly sequined leotard and dance on some giant drums so I can make a comparison," Rachel shot back, looking at Luke wonderingly. _Was he ... No, that's insane. Jet lag is making me read into things. _"Just catch me up with the Cliff Notes version and I'll go over to Miss Patty's for some Founders' Day punch and the real juice."

"Well, Rory applied for emancipation ..."

"What!"

"At which stage a scary lady with a clipboard and a pantsuit started walking around Stars Hollow with a clipboard, asking everybody all sorts of questions about Lorelai and what kind of mother she makes and how well Rory would blend in Stars Hollow."

"Sounds like a Buster Keaton routine waiting to backfire."

"More than you can imagine. Taylor became convinced that she is a government spy just waiting to defect to North Korea, so he gave her a big Abe-Lincoln-at-Gettysburg-inspired speech. Kirk thought she was part of an elaborate prank instigated by one of his older brothers, so he got stuck up a tree again. Took two parademics, Bobo the Clown and a family-sized pack of Tootsie rolls to get him down. And I'm not allowed to raise the price of toast for another three years," Luke began.

Rachel whistled softly through her teeth, a habit she'd acquired from a particularly colourful carnie she interviewed a few years ago. "That sounds really bad."

"It gets worse," Luke said grimly.

"You've already told me what Kirk and Taylor did. How can it get worse?" Rachel exclaimed.

"Well, Babette thought that the lady might have some inside information on how the gnome got stolen, being a 'smart, snappy young Erin Brockovich except with smaller boobs' and all. So she begged for tips on how to interrogate someone and, when the lady wouldn't give her any tips, she started stalking her around town dressed in a trench coat, sunglasses and a wide-brimmed hat."

"That is worse."

"I'm not done yet," Luke grimaced. "The lawyer caught Jackson while he was harvesting his lemon crop."

Rachel winced.

"And it was a particularly tasty crop of Meyer's, which made Jackson very happy."

"I can only imagine," Rachel said, remembering a West Side Story-styled 'I Feel Pithy' moment Jackson had a few months ago when his strawberry crop had been exceptionally tasty.

"Whatever you're imagining, it's worse," Luke said glumly. "I don't know exactly what happened at the Inn, but I heard that Michel was feeling French again and somehow, the guest register got flung out the window and it hit the lawyer lady on the head."

"Hard enough that she would forget about the lunatic with the lemons, the gnome-obsessed crazy lady and Kirk?"

Luke shot Rachel a bemused look. "Not even if it was a canon ball would it be hard enough."

"That's true," Rachel sighed as she looked out the truck window, the back of her mind noticing how pretty Stars Hollow was. "It sounds like the town really screwed up Lorelai's chances of getting custody of Rory."

"Well, I think Sookie and Mia at the Inn gave the lawyer lady some good information. Sookie wasn't in the kitchen at the time of the interview, so there's a good chance that she didn't set anything on fire," Luke pointed out as he parked his truck across from the diner. "And I think Miss Patty was surprisingly helpful. And Andrew from the bookstore."

Rachel shook her head. "You know as well as I do that it won't be enough."

"So what do you have in mind?"

Rachel bit her bottom lip as she thought. Luke recognised the look that creeped into her eyes; that combination of creative intuition and determination that seldom bode well for anyone in Rachel's way. "I can think of only one thing that'll work. But we'll need Miss Patty, Kirk and Jackson to come on board. I can convince Miss Patty, you can twist Kirk's arm and we'll both work on Jackson. And we'll definitely need Lane, too."

"I'm almost afraid to ask what you have in mind," Luke grumbled as they got out of the truck and walked into the diner.

Rachel gleamed at him. "Don't worry. It'll be worth it if we can get mother and daughter together again. Don't you agree?"

Luke felt a familiar pull in the pit of his stomach. Lorelai had become paler and thinner, with the dark smudges under her eyes increasingly dark. He wasn't sure if he could stand another day of watching her stare absentmindedly at the town square, letting a plate of perfectly cooked breakfast or burger cooling down untouched in front of her. "Yeah, sure," he muttered, trying to sound indifferent and failing.

"Luke, you old softie," Rachel crowed, punching him in the arm. "Now, we're going to have to get started."

xxxxxxxxxxxxx


	24. Reconciliation Or A Body Bag

_Author's Note: I had a lot of difficulty with this chapter and I'm sick of staring at it, wondering how I can change it, so up it goes! Constructive criticism is as welcome as always!_

**Reconciliation Or A Body Bag**

"Is that the future Pulitzer Prize-winning Rory Gilmore reading something as conventional as a Mary Higgins Clark?" Lane called in surprise as she walked across the quad to Rory. School had just finished for the day and a weekend excitement was in the air. Rory looked up from her paperback as Lane sat down on the bench next to her. "Is that cultural judgment from a Fleetwood Mac fan?"

"Oh, now, be nice," Lane chided. "Or I'll have a tell-all interview with Larry King once your famous, spilling all your secret literary pleasures. Now, are you more a Tasmina Perry fan or do you prefer Lauren Weisberger? Or do you prefer the more old school stylings of Helen Fielding?"

"How is it that you even know their names?"

Lane shrugged. "I had lunch with Madeleine and Louise and the conversation veered towards books. Surprisingly enough, Doctor Seuss was not mentioned once."

"That is a shocker," Rory said, stuffing her copy of _A Cry In The Night _into her backpack. "So what are your plans for the weekend?"

"This, that and the other," Lane said, studying her nails intently. "You still staying at Paris's house, so I'm assuming its going to be another wild night at the Gellers'."

"Like you would not believe," Rory sighed. She had decided to stay at school for a while before heading over to the Gellers' house. Although Paris and her parents had been perfectly pleasant about the living situation, the atmosphere had become a little tense after Mrs Geller found Mr Geller's mistress in the basement with masking tape and an axe. "How are things in the Hollow?"

"Taylor finally got permission to put up a traffic light, so he's as pleased as Tom Cruise on the Oprah show. It's driving Luke insane, because the light is right in front of his diner."

Rory smiled. "Sounds entertaining."

"Like you would not believe," Lane said.

"How's Dean?"

"Doing well," Lane replied, spotting the gap she had been waiting for. "Listen, they've got another softball game tonight. Why don't you take the bus with me and come watch the game? You could even swing a spot in the guest bedroom."

"Mama Kim wouldn't have a problem with you bringing over an unexpected guest?" Rory asked, thinking that the gluten-free, wheat-free, dairy-free breakfast muffins would be more pleasant than the continental spread and muttered insults at the Gellars' table.

"It's not going to be a problem," Lane replied, crossing her fingers behind her back. "Of course, we'll just have to go to the town meeting first."

"Town meeting on a Friday night?" Rory asked, furrowing her brown. It was hard to imagine the Hartford politicians she knew sacrificing a Friday night to duty.

"Yeah, well," Lane shrugged, "it's part town meeting and part pep rally for the softball game. You know we like to make our own entertainment in small towns."

xxxxxxxxxx

"I have a bad feeling about this," Luke grumbled as he deposited a tray of newly baked brownies onto the countertop.

Rachel reached for a brownie. "Unless it's low-fat and made with carob substitute instead of chocolate, brownies are always a good idea."

"I'm not talking about the brownies," Luke clarified as he swatted her hand with the spatula. "I'm talking about the town meeting."

"It's the only way to do it. We all agreed," Rachel said.

"No. You suggested, we objected, you steamrolled."

"And _th__e__n_ we all agreed," Rachel smiled, the wide-eyed innocent smile that always got Luke to do her bidding.

"Yeah, then we all agreed that you could benefit from some professional help," Luke muttered as he lifted the brownies onto a cooling tray.

"Mean!" Rachel objected.

"True," Luke countered.

"Truce?" Rachel offered.

"I still have a bad feeling about this," Luke said earnestly. "Is there any way we could ..."

Rachels shook her head. "It's all been agreed upon. Lane just texted me to say Rory is coming to tonight's town meeting, so it's too late to back out."

Luke made a grumbling sound that was half-agreement, half-annoyance.

Rachel patted his hand. "It's going to work out just fine, Luke."

"Everytime somebody says that, the hair on the back of my neck tingles."

"Well, then, I guess everything is going to work out just fine, Spiderman."

xxxxxxxxxx

"Order, please," Taylor said, banging his gavel on the podium.

"Who gave the Cardigan Dictator a gavel?" Lorelai whispered to Sookie.

Sookie St James grinned. "In retrospect, it was a very ill-conceived gift for Stars Hollow Appreciates Taylor Doose Day."

"Stars Hollow Appreciates Taylor Doose Day?" Lorelai snorted in disbelief.

Sookie nodded. "There was that lull in September, so we just went for it."

Lorelai laughed. She was still living at the Inn and, even though it veered toward Suite Life With Zack & Cody at times, she enjoyed it. Her friendship with Mia had solified into something resembling a nurturing mother-daughter relationship, she had became good friends with the chef and she even found the French concierge a little less annoying now. She enjoyed the great meals, the good company and the fact that she never had to worry about making her bed. True, she didn't have to worry about making her own bed in Hartford either, but in Hartford there was a nearly endless procession of ...

"Lorelai!" Taylor said sharply.

"What?" Lorelai asked, wondering what he had been on about.

"Will you help Miss Patty with the costumes for the high school marching band?" Taylor repeated slowly, as though speaking to a drug-addled toddler. "Sookie nominated you."

"Why on earth would you do that?" Lorelai asked Sookie. "I don't know how to sew."

"It's okay, honey, I can help you," Miss Patty said from the dias. "Just stay after the meeting is adjourned, okay?"

The town of Stars Hollow looked at Lorelai.

"I can help too," Rachel volunteered. "Although the only thing I know about sewing is that you're supposed to prick the fabric and not your finger."

Miss Patty beamed at Lorelai and Rachel. "It's a date then. Lane, honey, do you have the fabric samples with you?"

"Yeah," Lane called from the back.

"Great. Can you stay behind, too, so we can decide on the colours and fabric so long?"

"Sure," Lane agreed. She turned to Rory, who was sitting next to her. "I hope it's not a problem for you. We'll get to the game a bit later than I thought, but it'll still be fun."

"Buy me a corndog and I'll forgive you," Rory said, with something resembling a smile. She had enjoyed the town meeting, listening to the different trivial issues and watching the townsfolk. The novelist in her had squirreled away little details, storing like them nuts until it was time to write a story. She had noticed her mother sitting next to a red-haired woman who looked vaguely familiar and felt a twinge in her heart. She wanted to go say hello, to hear what's been happening ...

Rory was brought back to the present when she heard the rest of the town calling goodbyes to each other. She was left in Miss Patty's dance and yoga studio with Taylor, Miss Patty, Sookie, Rachel, Lane and her mother. She remained seated, watching Miss Patty argue about the colours with Taylor and Rachel discussing fabrics with Lane. When Lorelai turned her head and saw her daughter, sitting in the back, she felt that twinge too.

"Oh, shoot!" Lane said suddenly. "I just remembered that the band is actually playing before the softball match. I need to run." And she darted out of the door before Rory could follow.

"I need to make sure those kids are singing the anthem properly. Kids, today, can't be trusted," Taylor said as he followed Lane.

"Looks like we might be here for a while. I'll go get some snacks from Luke," Rachel said cheerfully as she walked out of Miss Patty.

"I'll help her carry," Miss Patty said and followed Rachel. She then turned to slide the door shut and the Lorelais heard what sounded like the ominuous clicking of a padlock.

"Did they just look us in here?" Rory sputtered in disbelief.

Lorelai frowned. "They couldn't have."

"Yes, we did!" Miss Patty shouted from outside. "We locked you in so you two can talk through your issues and be with each other, like you belong!"

"Is that even legal?" Lorelai asked Rory.

"I checked the town bylaws!" Taylor hollored. "In case of serious emergency, I have the right to detain any citizens and their families on Stars Hollow soil! And you will both agree that this is definitely a serious emergency!"

"I'm not a Stars Hollow citizen!" Rory said.

"Nor am I," Lorelai added. "Hey, Taylor ..."

"You've been living in the Stars Hollow postal area for more than four months, three weeks and two days and on the third day, you became a Stars Hollow citizen!"

"I thought it was oceans, lands and vegetation that came into being on the third day," Rory said wryly.

"You calling your mother an ocean, a land and vegetation?" Lorelai asked. "It seems rude somehow."

The Lorelais smiled at each other hesitantly.

"You look tired," Rory said timidly.

"You look thin," Lorelai replied, equally timidly. She sat down on a chair a few paces away from Rory. "How's school?"

"It's okay," Rory said. "Got an A for a Spanish test."

"Oh. Felicidades."

"Gracias."

They were quiet for a while, studying each other's shoes. The silence allowed them to hear the muffled conversation outside.

"Do you think they're talking to each other?" Miss Patty asked.

"I'm sure if we slide a glass up against the wall ..." Taylor began. From the way he was rapidly sushed, it seemed that he had made this particular suggestion too many times.

"I hope this works," Rachel said, sounded worried. As worried as one could sound through three layers of wood, that is.

"I told you this was insane," Luke growled.

"Luke, were you part of this collective insanity plea?" Lorelai shouted.

"Lorelai! I ... well ... they felt so bad about the lemons and the Erin Brokovich with smaller boobs and ... and the register flying out the window ..."

"Do you have any idea what he is talking about?" Rory asked Lorelai, who shrugged.

"And the thing about North Korea," Taylor reminded Luke.

"Right, and the thing about North Korea. They just wanted to make up for it and so Rachel called an emergency meeting and said you two needed to talk and Kirk suggested locking you two in a room together, because that's how he resolved his issues with Cat Kirk and ... well, then Rachel thought it was a good idea and we all thought the two of them were nuts, but then Taylor looked in the bylaws and he saw that he could legally detain you and Miss Patty suggested that we detain you here and I baked brownies ..."

"Luke, you're making absolutely no sense!" Lorelai yelled, frustrated. "What is this about lemons and Erin Brokovich's boobs?"

Miss Patty took over the narration and explained to the Lorelais that the town felt collective guilt about damaging Lorelai's chances to gain custody of Rory, seeing as how Emily and Richard's neighbours probably didn't get too excited about citrus or gnomes and probably didn't hide in trees or accuse them from being foreign spies. ("Not unless it's Halloween," Lorelai pointed out.) So Rachel decided to call a town meeting to hear what could be done and when Kirk suggested locking them in a room, the rest of the town first decided he was mad, until Rachel convinced them otherwise. So Taylor checked the bylaws to make sure it was all legal, Lane and Sookie got Lorelai and Rory to the town meeting, Rachel and Miss Patty and Taylor twisted the conversation to make sure they would remain behind and so they got locked in. Luke had made brownies, along with a diner's worth of food, and it was all in the little bar fridge located in the back of Miss Patty's studio.

"You just had to slide your hand under the painting of me dancing on drumbs to pull back the secret lever otherwise those kids get into everything and then they take nips ," Miss Patty saw Taylor's face and quickly added, "of milk and the dairy makes them too mucuousy to concentrate. There's also a bed in there and some pillows and extra blankets, so you can make yourselves all comfy and settle in for a good chat."

"You know you're not licenced to serve alcohol," Taylor warned.

"Are you licenced to wag that finger at me?" Miss Patty asked.

"Well," Taylor began, "according to the town bylaws ..."

Rory and Lorelai looked at each other in disbelief.

"They actually locked us in here to talk through our issues?" Rory exhaled. "That's ... insane."

"Beyond insane."

They went back to studying each other's shoes.

"But kind of nice," Rory volunteered.

"Yeah," Lorelai agreed, smiling at her daughter. "Beyond nice."


End file.
